


The Red Haired Jones

by phthalo, TheMusicalPirate



Series: I belong to you, you belong to me [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Continuation, F/M, I Tried, I belong to you you belong to me universe, I tried : D
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phthalo/pseuds/phthalo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMusicalPirate/pseuds/TheMusicalPirate
Summary: Emma and Killian are busy being Sheriff and Savior, running The Crow's Nest, and, above all, raising Ian and Jackie. Everything is peaceful in Storybrooke -- as peaceful and calm as it can be when you're living in a fairytale world anyway -- when a figure from Killian's past reappears and threatens to destroy everything they know.History is revealed through the mysterious red haired, blue eyed pirate as Emma and Killian must once again fight to protect everything they've worked so hard to build.Family was never easy.





	1. Chapter One

Despite the clear blue sky, something like thunder boomed in the distance. As the sound grew louder, a patch of sea beyond the harbour darkened and began to swirl. For some time everything had been quiet and almost peaceful in Storybrooke.  
  
But that was about to change...for better or for worse.  
  
-  
  
Killian and Emma were at the docks, enjoying a moment alone, away from the chaos of raising Ian and Jackie. They sat quietly in each other's arms, gazing out upon the horizon. No words needed to pass between them; a kiss to his cheek, a brush of his thumb over her knuckles said it all.

They were pulled suddenly from the tranquil scene as a resounding bang like the echo of cannon fire reached their ears.

They both jumped up and approached the edge of the pier. Killian pulled out his spyglass - marauding the seas may be well in his past, but he was unwilling to renounce all elements of being a pirate. He unfurled the thing and raised it to his eye.  
  
Far out to sea there seemed to be a horrendous storm, thunder and lightning split open the vast waves as water began to swirl into a vortex, it grew deeper and larger with what seemed to be an ethereal glow coming from deep within. Magic...teleportation Magic Killian mused to himself as he felt a shiver run down his spine. He stared into the spyglass for several long moments before passing it to Emma.

“So much for the peace and quiet, huh?” she mused quietly as she peered through the spyglass.  
  
“Aye, it was bound to happen sooner or later love; this is Storybrooke, after all.”  
  
“Yep,” she sighed, and passed the spyglass back to her husband. Then she began wiggling her fingers and shaking out her arms in a warm up, preparing for a fight.  
  
  Lighting struck then, and the giant swirling vortex in the middle of the ocean opened wider and something large sprang out of it. The portal shut quickly behind what had risen from the sea, and disappeared with a loud boom.  

Killian had his spyglass out again. A ship sailed towards them, her frame slicing through the waves with immense speed, rivaling that of the Jolly Roger. His eye followed the large beam of the main mast upwards until...THERE!  
  
“Those are the colours of...oh...” Killian groaned quietly, and then actually laughed slightly. “The sigil...it's a pegasus.”  
  
“Sigil? So it's a Pirate Captain we're dealing with, here," Emma said with a raised eyebrow. Loving a pirate and having a son obsessed with them meant you picked up little bits of information.  
  
“Aye, love,” Killian said, and gave her a quick grin of admiration - his Swan was a sharp one. “And the Pegasus belongs to one particular Pirate Captain: Anne Bonny.”  
  
“Alright. What do you suggest? This is your area of expertise.”  
  
“Hardly," Killian grumbled. "I've never met the lass. Though she's been described as...fiery,” he admitted. He looked out across the ocean, watching as the vessel sliced through the waves with such efficiency. He took a moment to calculate how long it would until arrival: maximum of ten minutes. They didn't have long before the Pegasus would reach the docks.  
  
And then, trouble would start.  
  
“What's she doing in Storybrooke?” Emma wondered as the ship approached. From the distance it appeared empty, apart from the tiny figure at the wheel, a blur in blue and red.  
  
“We'll just have to see, won't we?” Killian suggested softly.  
  
Emma wiggled her fingers slightly, feeling the magic pulse through her body, before waving her hand. Killian's cutlass appeared on his hip. He looked at it, raised a brow, and smirked slightly before turning his gaze back to the ship approaching.  
  
They walked, hand in hand and in silence towards where the Pegasus would dock, both prepared for an imminent fight. The vessel turned as it approached, reaching the concrete side and turned on its side. The anchor dropped with a thunk and docked with such speed , as if it were manned by a well trained crew.  
  
The gangplank lowered slowly onto the dock. Emma and Killian approached cautiously, cutlass and magic held at the ready. Despite being a large and grand ship, it appeared devoid of any crew or passengers- the lowly figure from before had vanished from sight, leaving the wooden exterior silent and mysterious.  
  
The ship itself was a sight. Killian admired it as he and Emma drew nearer. It was around the same size as the Jolly, but made from darker wood and painted a combination of blue and black. The figurehead was an enormous Pegasus rising from the waves, its wings spread around the ship as if protecting it. Other than that, it felt a lot like the Jolly - to the point that it was eerie.  
  
Killian scowled as they climbed the gangplank onto the ship.  
  
“She is a beauty, I'll give the lass that,” he muttered, eyes darting around the ship, trying to see everything at once. He felt slightly put off by how much of a copy of the Jolly she was- all this familiarity was playing strange tricks with his brain. Unease rolling off of him in waves.  
  
“Seems someone was a fan of your ship,” Emma called. She was atop the quarterdeck, running her palm admiringly over the steering wheel.  
  
Killian climbed the steps to join her. “And who wouldn't be, Swan? I mean, have you seen me and my ship?” he teased.  
  
“If you keep talking like your head is going to swell so big you'll sink the ship."  
  
"Very funny, Swan," he said, and wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead, but she was stiff against his side. He brushed her arm with his fingers and felt goose bumps there.  
  
His arm tightened protectively. "Emma, what's wrong?"She leaned into him and shook her head. "There's something weird about this ship. It makes my skin crawl."  
  
"I think I know what you mean, love," Killian said, lifting his eyes from her face for a moment to glance warily around the ship. The ship was quiet. Too quiet. As if any minute that things would go up in flames.  
  
"And I feel like...I feel like my magic's being blocked,” Emma continued, chewing her lip thoughtfully.  
  
“Perhaps we should-”  
  
_Click._  
  
“It's bad form to board a ship without the Captain's permission.”  
  
They both turned to find the towering figure of Anne Bonny herself, standing behind them with her pistol drawn and pointed directly at Killian. She was clad in a dark navy coat, face partly hidden by her hat and thick red hair spilling over her shoulders. She cut quite the figure. Killian could picture her wreathed in the smoke of cannon fire, staring down her enemies, terrifying yet magnificent.  
  
His moment of regard was cut short as Anne Bonny spoke again. “Now,” she said, jerking her pistol to the side, “lose the weapon - and no magic; otherwise, you'll be scrubbing his brains from the deck. And you wouldn't want that, would you, lass?"  
  
 Killian lowered his cutlass to the ground, and as he straightened her stepped slowly to the side, just in front of Emma, and raised both hands in the air above his head.  
  
 His jaw clenched hard and his eyes narrowed, fixed on Anne Bonny's gun.  
  
“Where are my manners?” he spat angrily, eyes narrowing still more. “I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Killian Jones, formerly known as Captain Hook.”  
  
“Delighted to meet your acquaintance, Captain. Anne Bonny," she said, and tipped her hat in his direction. Then her eyes slid to Emma. “And this lovely lass must be the Saviour."  
  
“How do you know who I am?” Emma demanded, he could feel her stiffen even more at the mere mention of her title.  
  
“I know many a things lass, your blonde head is famous in this land and the next” Despite the cheerful tone and the fact her eyes wandered between the pair- her pistol never wavered from its target: Killian's chest.  
  
“What are you doing here? You won't find much to pillage and plunder in these parts” Killian growled darkly, his eyes wandering to the cutlass a few steps ahead of him.  
  
"I'm here for him,” she said, and beneath the shadow of her hat, her teeth gleamed suddenly in a wicked smile.  
  
Killian knew then that she meant to kill him. The problem was, he had no clue as to why.  
  
“Lass," he said calmly, "if I had ever...pissed you off, previously, I would know about it-”  
  
“Shush,” Anne snapped. “You need some reminding, by the looks of it.”  
  
She swept her hat off then and let it tumble to the ground. The wind blew her hair off her shoulders as she jerked her head up. Killian's mouth fell open.  
  
One red brow was arched in his direction. “Better?” Anne Bonny asked in a sarcastic tone that rivaled Regina's.  
  
Killian searched the captain's face, looking for confirmation, looking for something he recognized.  
  
_Her eyes._

The pupil was surrounded by a hazel colour, like whisky sitting at the bottom of a glass, but around the hazel was blue - the exact same shade of blue as Killian's.  
  
“Annie?” He choked out, eyes wide, mouth still gaping. Beside him, he felt Emma tense, felt her turn to him curiously.  
  
Anne Bonny's wicked smile was back.

“It's been far too long... _Brother_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again a big thank you to peglegsjones/phthalo for allowing this junk to be part of her almighty main storyline. She's my beta reader and I would be lost without out her at times in the hectic schedule that is my life. I've got several projects coming up so I may be unable to update for a while but I will keep anyone posted on my tumblr. 
> 
> Tumblr is: the-dwarf-that-bakes

" _Annie_?" Killian asked.

His gaze at last left her pistol and focused on her face. He had forgotten her. _How could he have forgotten her_? Pain -- pain long buried -- rose up inside him like a flood as he stared into her eyes. Images of a younger Anne flashed across his mind, images from before the incident, when she would glare at him moments before breaking into a smile and punching his arm playfully.

But that Annie was gone. The face of the young, red-haired lass he knew was vanished. Now, he was staring at a Captain, a Captain with deep scars and eyes that had seen too much.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Aye, it's me you gawking fool. And may I say you haven't aged a day since I last saw you."

"Annie, I thought you were dead -- "

"Save it," she snarled, and aimed her pistol squarely at his chest. Her jaw clenched slightly, and her eyes had grown steely. “ _Annie_ is no more. It's Captain Bonny now, and as it stands I have the right to blow you to bits for stepping aboard my ship without permission. It seems you've still no sense, brother, _despite_ the fact you're clearly wed.”

Killian could have laughed: his sister was lecturing him, _as always_...yet, as she looked at him with such fury and menace, he couldn't even muster up a smile.

“No, of course not. You're still the pig-headed, stubborn idiot -- ” then she smirked and her eyes slid sideways. “Lass, don't try it.”

Emma had crept to the right, out from behind Killian, trying to get into an open space to use her magic, but now she froze. Her hands curled into fists and dropped to her sides.

“My vessel is enchanted so that any magic you use on board may... _backfire_. I don't think my brother would appreciate his wife's hands getting burnt, do you?”Anne turned back to Killian, and her smirk turned savage as she said, “How I'm going to enjoy this -- ”

“I'm sorry," Killian blurted suddenly.

“ _What_?” Clearly surprised, Anne fumbled the pistol slightly.

"I'm sorry I left you there. I thought -- "

He'd thought she'd be better off without him.

He'd thought that, on her own, she could make something of herself, have a decent life, a happy one.

"I thought I was giving you your best chance," he said quietly. His shoulders sagged as the words --  as the apology he'd wanted to give his sister for centuries -- left his lips. His regret had been a weight he'd carried for so long that he'd forgotten how heavy it was. He should feel lighter, now, but all he felt inside was empty.

“You're _sorry_? Is that all you have to say?” Anne retorted venomously. “You left me, Killian. You _left_ me!"

Tears welled up in her eyes, and the pistol in her hand began to tremble.

“I thought if I left I was giving you a better chance at life!" Killian said. "I never meant for you to get hurt. _I never meant to hurt you, Annie!_ ” He was shaking with emotion now. All the feelings he'd kept buried so deeply were being dredged up, brought to the surface.

“What would _you_ care?" Anne spat back. "You were off at some tavern drowning yourself in rum!”

She advanced on Killian, her teeth bared like a dog as hot angry tears gushed down her cheeks.

Killian swallowed a lump in his throat. “I didn't know," he said weakly. "By the time the news reached me -- "

_BANG!_

He narrowly dodged the lead bullet aimed at his head. It passed squarely through the gap just over his shoulder, and blasted apart one of the handles on the ship's wheel. Emma cried out as wood exploded everywhere. Killian felt several splinters slice into the exposed skin of his neck. He yelled in pain and cursed, and when he put a hand to his neck and felt blood beneath his fingers.

Anne took a shaky breath before reaching for a fresh pistol on her other side. She aimed it once more at Killian's head and cocked it.

“ _This_ time I won't -- ”

There was a loud  _thunk_  and Anne collapsed to the deck, out cold. Emma stepped away from the body and dropped Killian's cutlass -- she'd used the pommel to knock his sister out. Her magic being off limits, she'd resorted to another tactic: beat someone over the head until they were unconscious.

She stood there, looking at him, breathing heavily. 

“Swan," he asked hoarse, his hand still clasped to his throat, "you alright?”

“You gave me a frickin' heart attack, but yea, I'm  _peachy.”_ She came over to him and pulled his hand away from his neck, ignoring his stutters. “Let me look."

He fell still, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. She was plainly relieved, and Killian took it as a sign that the wound wasn't too bad.

"I can heal it as soon as we're off this ship," she said. "We can take your sister to the station and put her in a cell until we figure out what to do with her. And then," she raised her eyes, fixing him a stern green stare. "You have _a lot_ of explaining to do.”

He pursed his lips and nodded softly. “Aye, love, I do.”

Her expression softened. She cupped his face and kissed him gently, then pressed her forehead to his. 

“One tiny favour?”  she asked.

“Name it, Swan,” he said. "Whatever you desire, it's yours."

“Don't _ever_ scare me like that again.”

He heard the tremble in her voice. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, and dipped his head to nuzzle her neck. She smelled of the pancakes they'd made for breakfast and her floral shampoo -- she smelled like _home_.

“Aye,” he promised. "Never again."

-

Killian hooked one arm under Anne's knees, wrapped the other around her shoulders, and gently lifted her into his arms. She fell slack against his chest. He clutched her closer for a moment, and his heart broke a little at the realization that his little sister wasn't so little anymore. 

 “You're a lot heavier than the last time I did this, lass,” he admitted quietly to himself.

Up close, he now studied the transformation his sister's face had undergone over the years.

She had a scar neatly tucked under her fringe and another running lightly over her nose. The one across the forehead was slightly jagged, and Killian knew she'd been lucky the offending blade hadn't taken the top of her head clean off. Her nose was slightly crooked, but he wasn't surprised -- she'd been a fighter even as a small child, and it appeared that hadn't changed. Her skin was darker and her hair lighter where it had been exposed to the sun, telltale indicators of a hard life at sea.

Killian felt a little shiver of sadness.

What had she suffered? What hardships had she experienced that he, as her brother, could have prevented?

Emma touched his arm and he lifted his eyes to hers. She gave him a small, encouraging smile and said softly, “Hey, this isn't the first family drama we've navigated through. Everything will be alright."

“Aye,” he said, and looked once more at his sister.

_Anne._

_Anne Bonny_.

 He grinned suddenly. “Ian's going to lose his mind,” he said.

“Because his aunt is Anne Bonny? The pirate he named his _dog_ after?”

“Oh, she's going to be _furious_ I let that happen,” Killian chuckled lightly. "Furious, and flattered."

Emma brushed some hair off his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. Her words and her touch helped ease his tension. She was his anchor in the rough moments of life, as he was hers, and all he needed was a look or a word or the touch of her skin on his to feel immediately more grounded, more able to face what was ahead.

"She looks like you," Emma said. "She's even got the same ears." Her fingers trailed down from his temple to trace the unusual, pointed shell of his ear.

Killian nodded. "Mostly, she takes after our mother," he said, voice rough with emotion.

Emma didn't press him just then, and he was grateful for it. He climbed down the gangplank, and she followed, one hand touching his back lightly, letting him know she was there. When they reached the docks, it was only to be greeted by the ominous clicking of heels -- the sound of approaching doom.

She stopped in front of them, barring their way, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Would you mind telling me what the _hell_ is going on?” she spat angrily.

Before he could stop himself, Killian was on the defensive. “ _Regina_ ," he drawled. "Lovely for you to grace us with your presence.”

Regina's gaze dropped to the unconscious bundle in his arms, and he clung to Anne a little tighter.

“Well, I'm glad you're already getting  _cozy_  with the new pirate in town. Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me as to why she's not in handcuffs?"

“Regina it's...this is private," Emma said, throwing Killian a warning glance that clearly said: _Let me handle this._

“ _Private_?" she hissed."A pirate armed to the teeth arrives in _my_ town with an enchanted ship and you expect me to ignore the very obvious threat it poses to everyone's safety because its  _private_?”

“ _Regina_ ,” Emma pleaded.

Killian gritted his teeth, but he kept his mouth shut. Emma had asked for his cooperation, and he trusted her.

Regina arched one eyebrow, waiting.

Emma hesitated, then glanced down at Anne. “It's...it's a family matter.”

Realization dawned on Regina's face as she took another, closer look at Anne. Finally, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

 “Fine," she said. "Fine. Just keep me in the loop. I don't need details, I just need to know the town's not in danger."

“Thanks, Regina. We'll tell you everything when we're ready."

Regina nodded curtly, spared them once last dubious glance that took in both Killian and Anne, then turned on her heel and stalked back down the dock.

Killian let out a breath but didn't say anything. He smiled at Emma, grateful for her intervention, and she gave him a small wink in return. They proceeded down the dock more slowly. Killian was weighed down both by Anne's body and by his own guilty conscious, and found it difficult to make his legs move with any sort of speed.

Regina was gone by the time they reached the parking lot. Emma darted ahead to move Ian and Jackie's car seats into the trunk so that Killian could set Anne down in the backseat. He moved a stray strand of brilliant red hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear before straightening. He closed the door quietly, as if his sister were just asleep and _not_ knocked out cold.

"Shoulda brought the squad car," Emma said regretfully.

"Neither of us could have predicted the turn this day would take, Emma," he said.

Emma nodded. “I'll drive,” she said, and Killian didn't argue. He knew she could read him, knew she understood his emotions were in such a flurry that he was in no fit state to drive.

He slid into the passenger seat next to her, body fraught with tension once more -- jaw clenched, fists resting stiffly on his thighs. He suddenly felt like it was the day they'd brought Jackie home from the hospital, or the first time after that they'd had her in the car again afterwards: every time the car shook as it passed over a rough spot in the concrete, or when a tire dipped into a pothole, he whipped his head around to look into the back, checking his sister was okay.

Every glance only confused him more -- his mental image of Anne as a young girl collided jarringly with the tough-as-old-leather pirate before his eyes. Finally, he fixed his eyes firmly ahead and kept them there.

They drove in silence. Halfway to the station, she reached out and put a hand over his. He turned his wrist, threaded his fingers through hers, and squeezed, then gave her the best smirk he could muster.

She had questions -- of course she did -- but she was respecting his space and his need for a moment of quiet to gather himself.

"Thank you," he said.

"I love you," was her answer.

-

Killian lay Anne down on the bunk, tried to arrange her so she'd be comfortable, then stepped out of the cell. Emma shut the door and locked it, then leaned on the edge of her desk and gave him that look -- the look that told him it was time.

"Alright," she said. "Spill."

Killian fidgeted beneath her gaze. He scratched behind his ear nervously, thinking how best to respond. All the memories rushed back at once and jumbled inside his head.

Finally, after several moments of silence, he said, “I thought she was dead.” His eyes slid sideways, not quite able to meet Emma's, and he continued, “I'm just surprised as you are, especially about the fact that Anne is...Anne Bonny.” He sighed and shook his head. “She's got too much me in her for her own sake.”

“Mmhm,” Emma said. “That's obvious."

_Seems the Jones genes are far too strong for their own good_

“She's my younger sister by seven years. The last time I saw her she was 28, and,” he paused. This was the first time he'd spoken of her -- first time he'd _thought_ of her -- in centuries. The memories had brought the pain back, as well, and the pain was suffocating him.

But Emma was there, supporting him, giving him strength, so he took a deep, shuddering breath, and started from the beginning.

"Anne was abandoned by my father the same day Liam and I were. She was...she was just a little girl." His arms were crossed over his chest, and his fingers tightened on his own arms, nails biting through his shirt to dig into his flesh. "Liam and I raised her, as much as we could. Poor Liam," he said, and shook his head. "He had his hands full keeping me out of trouble...trying to set an example for me. And Anne, Anne was like me: fiercely stubborn. And mouthy."

Emma grinned, and Killian had the courage to meet her eyes.

“When Liam and I started sailing, she had to stay behind, as it was bad luck to have women aboard -- "

"Of course," Emma cut in.

"She started serving in taverns," Killian said, and paused again. "Tavern wench and slave. Both rough starts."

"But you got out," Emma said. "You got into the Navy."

"Aye. Liam and I got our posts in the Navy, and Anne began playing the fiddle to earn some extra money on the side. She was fine on that thing," he said, voice taking on a wistful tone, "and probably still is."

“What happened after Liam died?" Emma prompted.

“Liam died," Killian said with a deep, sorrowful sigh, "and I turned to piracy."

Emma took his hand then, led him to the chair behind her desk and gently pushed him into it.

"Anne pursed her lips, but she stood by my side. But I," he swallowed hard. "I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't drag her down. I wanted a better life for her... _Liam_ had always wanted a better life for her. So I left her."

Emma made a small, sympathetic sound -- she understood what it was to let someone you loved go, for their own good.

"She was a smart lass, and capable. I took her to a town we both knew well, and I left her there.  Then I sailed down the coast to drown my sorrows with rum in another town. My sister set up in a tavern, and played the fiddle, waiting for my return, thinking that this time was just like all the other times, thinking that I'd come back for her, as I always did..."

He shook his head, screwing up his face to fight the tears that were gathering in his eyes.

"Hey," Emma said soothingly, putting a hand on his arm. "Hey, it's okay."

He nodded, and plowed on. "The governor's son was in the tavern that night, and as she played, he fell in love with her. He asked -- he _demanded_ that she wed him, and Anne of course denied him on the spot, in front of everyone."

"I bet he was embarrassed."

"That's putting it lightly, Swan. He flew into a rage, and immediately accused Anne of sorcery," he said, and when he saw Emma's confused expression, he explained, "This was a time long before Cora and Regina. Witchcraft was feared, and those believed to have practiced it were put to death."

He saw Emma shudder.

"Aye," he agreed.  "And, unfortunately, people were always quick to believe the accuser over the accused. All the governor's son had to do was point out Anne's unusual red hair and use of hand," he held up his left hand in explanation, "and he had the whole town calling for her head."

 

“All because she rejected him?” Emma asked incredulously.

“Power in the wrong hands is the most dangerous, Swan," he said darkly. "She was drowned for her supposed crimes, all because she rejected the wrong lad's affections."

 “Oh, Killian...” 

"By the time the news reached me it was too late. I tried to find her -- find her body -- but I failed. The only grave I had for my sister was the sea, and that was the last I saw of her. Until today."

"How come you've never told me any of this before?" Emma asked quietly.

"I didn't remember," he said, and his voice rose, high-pitched and desperate. "I took a potion that an old witch gave me, and I forgot -- "

"A _witch_?" Emma cut in. " _Seriously_?"

"Aye, Swan. The irony abounds, I know. I found her while I was searching for Anne's body. The townspeople had told me what had happened, not knowing I was her brother, and I went immediately to the cliffs they told me she'd been thrown into the sea from."

"You found the witch by the cliffs?"

"Stumbled upon her, really. She apparently lived mere footsteps from the place when the townspeople had gathered to execute my sister. Needless to say, she was surprised to see me in her doorway."

Emma looked sideways, into the cell, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "Do you think...do you think maybe the witch helped your sister survive?"

Killian followed her gaze. His sister was still unconscious, lying still and peaceful on the cot.

"You might be right, love," he admitted. "The old witch was... _eager_ to see me gone. I told her why I was there -- who I was looking for -- and she offered me an antidote to my grief, if only I'd leave right away. I'd assumed it was because she didn't want to join my sister in a watery grave, but...I suppose she could have been hiding her. I didn't exactly search her home."

They were silent for a time, Killian mulling over everything he'd just said, and the realization they'd come to.

It made sense.

And it made him angry.

Had he truly been so close to his sister then, in the old witch's hut?

“Seeing her today must of been quite the shock for you," Emma said gently, drawing him back to reality.

“Aye," he said, and grinned. "I always pictured her as the lass no bigger than my knee, running around with her front teeth missing. But seeing her today, as a bloody-thirsty pirate," his grin faded. "It just goes to show how much I failed her."

"Hey," Emma said firmly. "You didn't fail anyone. You tried your best, alright? Something happened that you couldn't have possibly foreseen. You can't blame yourself for that."

"You always see the best in me Swan," Killian said, with a little watery chuckle.

“I'm pretty sure I once told you I always would," she said. She slid into his lap, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him gently. He tightened his arms, holding her closer.

“I'm sorry, Emma. I didn't mean to keep a secret from you.”

She rested her forehead against his. Her eyes were a deep green, and perfectly calm. "You don't have to apologize. You weren't lying to me, Killian, you just didn't remember."

"But now I do," he said.

"But now you do," she agreed. "And now Anne's back in your life. You have a second chance, Killian. You can make it up to her."

"Aye," he said. "And this time, I won't fail her."

-

_A long time ago_

Killian sat alone at in the tavern, a mug of ale in one hand, and the tiny vial of lilac-colored liquid the old witch had given him in the other. He stared at it. She'd said it would ease his grief over his sister's death, and he'd...he'd taken it, without a word of gratitude -- just ripped it from her fingers and fled.

He could hear the not-so-quiet whispers all around him: people trading gossip of the witch they'd recently executed -- his sister.

_Anne_.

There were other taverns he could have gone to, but he'd chosen this one, and perhaps that was foolish, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. The whispers filled his head with their awful droning sound, making his blood boil as his anger mounted.

He should kill all these people, these ignorant, small-minded, blood-thirsty scum who'd screamed or his sister's death. And he would kill them. Starting with that cruel, spoiled boy who'd started it all.

But that boy was the governor's son, Killian couldn't slaughter him in broad daylight and hope to get away. He needed a plan.

And he couldn't devise a plan with grief strangling his heart.

Killian closed his eyes, pictured Anne smiling, back when Liam was alive, back when they'd been... _not happy_ , but back when they'd had each other, the three of them. He flicked the cork off the vial with his thumb, and downed the vial in a single gulp. He held that picture of Anne in his mind's eye, Anne standing on the dock, red hair glinting in the sun, blue eyes sparkling with laughter, and then that image... _slipped away_.

The vial fell from his fingers and hit the floor. Killian opened his eyes and blinked around.

What was he doing here. He looked at the mug of ale in his hand.

Ah. _Drinking_.

He took a deep pull from the mug, and then looked around. Where was his crew? Was he drinking alone? Suddenly, his eyes found a woman, a woman whose sad eyes made his breath catch.

She was alone as well, staring miserably into her own drink. He found himself wanting to join her. He was making up his mind about whether or not to go over and ask when a large, bald made blundered into her, causing her to slop her ale down her front.

The man spun, and, making slurry excused, picked up a rag and began mopping her front, ignoring her efforts to push his hands away. Anger flared up inside Killian, and he found himself in the man's face, shoving him roughly away.

"Leave the lady alone," he said loudly.

The man eyed him. "Or what?" he asked, and pushed Killian in the chest.

"Well," Killian said, grinning, and punched him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Anne awoke to a pounding headache.

"Bloody hell," she groaned, and threw her arm across her face to shield her eyes from the bright lights overhead. She must have drunk an entire cask of ale on her own to have _this_ bad of a hangover.

Except...why was the _back_ of her head throbbing?

Anne sat up slowly. She raised a hand to her hair, fingers probing the flesh beneath, and found a giant lump that sent pain lancing through her skull when she touched it. Anne cursed, and then grinned.

“That little blondie is getting it,” she mused darkly.

She took several quick glances around and realized she was in some sort of brig. “You're fucking kidding me,” she grumbled. She swung her legs over the bed and stood. Her legs wobbled and her head spun, but she ignored it and went to the bars to give them an experimental yank.

_Sturdy,_  she noted, then took a step back to check for gaps or possible weaknesses, but there were no other obvious means of escape.

Anne sighed. The lock, then.

Her hand drifted towards her coat pocket.

“Don't even think about it.”

Anne looked up to find the blonde wench that had knocked her out glaring back. She was sitting at a desk a few feet away, motionless -- she must have been watching Anne, waiting for her to wake up. There was no one else in the room; Killian was gone.

Her anger flared, and she bared her teeth in a snarl. “I see my brother has disappeared. _Again_."

"He went for a walk to clear his head," was the calm reply.

"Speaking of _heads_ ," she hissed. "It seems mine's not on quite right either."

“You didn't leave me much choice. You were shooting at my husband," the woman said. Her green eyes glinted dangerously.

“My apologies, lass. Family business. I didn't expect you to get in the way.” Anne folded her arms over her chest and eyed Emma for a long moment before finally raising a brow at her and asking, "Killian is _truly_ married? Ring on the finger, 'til death do us part', and all that?”

-

Emma leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee to hide her smile. The way Anne was looking at her, the raised eyebrow and the smirk...

_She looks like Killian when she does that._

Anne cut a striking figure -- something she had in common with Killian, although their appearances were vastly different. Anne had the same eyes and unusual ears as Killian, but the mouth, nose, and hair were an inheritance from their mother. Killian had said she'd been beautiful, and Emma believed it -- she'd never laid eyes on Saoirse Jones, but, looking at Anne, Emma could imagine what she must have looked like.

That smirk though...Emma wondered if it was a genetic or learned behavior.

She set her mug back on the desk and cleared her throat. “Is it really that hard to believe that your brother's married?"

“Aye. Killian's a bumbling fool," Anne said matter-of-factly, and despite her aloof manner and her recent attempt on Killian's life, Emma could hear a trace of affection in her voice. “He swaggers around, pretending to be clever and witty, but in reality he's a thick-skulled, goofy _idiot._ I'm surprised he found a woman daft enough to fall for his whole 'suave pirate' act -- why are you laughing?”

“I'm sorry," Emma's gasped through her giggles. "You just...you sound _exactly_ like him."

Anne's eyes narrowed and Emma saw her defenses go back up.

Emma's laughs died away, and she exhaled heavily. Laughing had been a mistake. She'd let herself get too comfortable for a moment, focusing on Anne as Killian's sister -- a window into his beginnings -- and not as the maniac who'd just tried to blow Killian's head off.

She took another sip of coffee and asked, “Why are you here?”

“I told you -- ”

“Here's the thing," Emma said, and leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the desk. "I have this super power: I can tell when someone's lying to me.”

Anne's smirk slipped, and Emma saw her tense up.

“You said you're here for Killian, but I don't think that's true. I don't think you knew he was going to be here."

“You're a perceptive thing, aren't you?" Anne said softly. She approached the bars again, slowly, a predatory gleam in her eye. Emma braced herself, knowing Anne's next words would be cutting. "Now I see why my brother kept you around; handy in a fight _and_ in a deal...shame you're not on the seas. Ever considered a life as a pirate?”

“Sheriff and Savior's enough for me,” Emma replied lightly. “And you still haven't answered my question."

“I don't make a habit of telling the law my secrets. What I'm doing here is _my_ business, and mine alone.”

“If you're here to hurt someone, then yea, it is actually my business."  

"Relax, blondie. No one's going to get hurt."

"Killian?" Emma asked.

"Not unless he gets in my way," Anne said flatly. She spun on her heel, showing Emma her back, and leaned against the bars. Her head was still turned slightly towards Emma, however, and Emma knew she was still listening, that she hadn't shut down completely.

Anne apparently had no interest in anything Killian had to say, but maybe -- _maybe_ \-- Emma could reach her...

"You knew he looked for you, right? When he finally heard what had happened," Emma said. "He went back."

Without a word, Anne heaved herself away from the bars and returned to her cot, where she laid down and slipped her hat over her eyes.

Emma sighed inwardly and stood. "I'll be in the back office," she said. "Shout or something if you need me."

Anne made no reply, so Emma left her.

-

It was nearly an hour later when a gentle tap on the office door made her look up from the paperwork she'd been scowling at to see Killian, one hand behind his back and an apologetic look on his face.

She smiled, and jerked her chin towards the arm he was currently hiding. "Whatcha got there, Captain?" she asked.

He grinned and, with a flourish, revealed the brown paper bag he was carrying. "Grilled cheese and a side of onion rings," he announced.

“You spoil me you know that?” she said as he set the bag in front of her.

“Yes, well, you're dealing with my sister, and if she's anything like she was as a child...you need to keep your energy up,”

“I'm not gonna lie: she's pretty infuriating,” Emma said ruefully.

Killian bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She sighed as the gentle brush of his lips on her skin melted all her frustration. Her hands slid up his chest to grip his jacket lapels. He gave a grunt of surprise as she pulled his mouth down to hers, but then his tongue was probing the seal of her lips, seeking permission. She let him in, and he deepened their kiss, sighing softly into her mouth as he did. Emma's hands moved along his neck to tangle in the short hairs at his nape.

When Emma finally pulled away she was breathing heavily.

"What was that for, love?" Killian puffed. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his hair was mussed, and his lips were red and slightly swollen from where she'd grazed them with her teeth.   

"Do I need a reason?" she asked, and cupped his face, letting her thumb trace back and forth along his cheek. 

"You don't need a reason, no," he said, then chuckled. "But we might need to ask your parents for a few extra hours of babysitting...perhaps I should call them back?"

"All day and all night with Ian and Neal?" Emma asked, eyebrows raised incredulously. "They'd kill us." Jackie was only 7 months and still low maintenance; Ian was resourceful enough to entertain himself safely (well, pretty safely) in the right environment, but once he and Neal were in the same room together...all hell broke loose.

Emma glanced at the clock. "It's already been five hours. I'm pretty sure six is their limit. What'd they say on the phone?"

"I only talked to your father. I explained the situation, and..." Killian paused and grimaced. "He had me on speaker phone, so, unfortunately, Ian heard all about there being a new pirate in town."

"Ian's probably going crazy right now," Emma said, laughing as she imagined Ian's ecstatic face.

"Aye. I heard him in the background begging David to take him to the station."

"We're _definitely_ not getting any extra babysitting tonight."

"No," Killian sighed.

"Did you tell my dad who Anne is?" Emma asked.

"No. I mentioned neither her name, nor the fact that she's my sister."

Emma nodded. "It's probably better that way. We can keep everything under wraps until things have calmed down a bit."

"You mean until my sister has calmed down a bit."

"Yea, that," Emma said. "How's Jackie?" She turned to the brown paper bag Killian had brought her and rummaged through it until her fingers found the onion rings.

"David said they've been playing Peekaboo all day," Killian said, smiling that foolishly happy smile he got whenever he talked about Jackie.

"That's her favorite," Emma said, feeling the same soppy smile on her own face. "Did they give her any solid food?"

"Aye. David said she seemed rather partial to the bananas and the sweet potatoes," he said, then looked pointedly at her onion rings. "And I'm sure she'll be thrilled to discover that she'll also be receiving some onion with her breast milk this evening."

"Hey, an onion's a vegetable," she said, and stuffed two more onion rings into her mouth.

Killian snorted and shook his head, then turned his eyes to the cells. Emma followed his gaze and saw Anne, sitting up on her bunk and glaring at them murderously.

Emma felt Killian's mood suddenly go dark.

"Do you think maybe she's just mad because she's hungry and wants an onion ring?" Emma asked.

"I wish it were that simple, Swan," Killian said quietly. He kept his eyes on his sister, but his hand found hers and squeezed, and Emma knew she'd gotten through, she'd drawn him back. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and said, "I'll make this right."

"I know you will," she said. "You've got this."

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles briefly before walking from the office.

-

Killian approached the bars, ignoring Anne's scowl, not allowing her obvious malice to slow his steps.

“The blonde couldn't break me so now it's your turn again, is it?" Anne said coldly.

“Annie -- ”

“Save your breath, _Hook_ ," she said. "I'm not interested. I've already had enough of your brotherly affection for one life time. So take your apologies and your _Annie_ 's elsewhere. "

The use of his old moniker and the venom with which she'd spoken it cut Killian to the core, but he held fast. He understood her distrust and her anger: he had failed her utterly as her brother. So he took a deep breath and let her harsh words wash over him. He deserved it, after all.

"If you're not here for me, then what are you here for?" he asked steadily. Her rage upon seeing him had been half shock-induced, he knew, and while she clearly couldn't stand the sight of him, she apparently no longer desired to murder him where he stood -- which led Killian to believe that his death was not what Anne had travelled to Storybrooke seeking.

Anne was silent, but it was a familiar silence. Killian felt like he was questioning the 16-year-old version of herself again, asking her why she had a black eye and a patron was missing a tooth.

Realization dawned. “You're running from someone--”

“It's none of your business--”

"My family lives here so it _is_ my business. You'll stay locked in this cell until I know they're safe. Now, who precisely did you piss off?!”

“Oh, so _now_ you care about family?" Anne glared and her lip curled. "Where was your love for your family when you abandoned me? You're a selfish bastard, Hook, and all you'll ever do for your so-called _family_ is let them down--"

“ _Watch your mouth_ ," Killian growled.

“Come in here and make me!" Anne spat.

Killian didn't move, and a triumphant gleam appeared in Anne's eyes.

"Thought so," she sneered.

Killian struck the bars with his fist. The entire structure rattled with the force of the blow, but Anne didn't flinch; she stood there, eyeing him with the same fury that had exploded inside him.

His whole body shook with barely contained violence as he said, "You listen to me, you insufferable little--"

“DAD!”

The sound of Ian's voice cut through the red fog clouding his brain. He took a step back, away from Anne's cell, dialing back his anger as he did. His hand throbbed, but he welcomed the pain -- anything to focus on, to distract him from the anger pulsing through him.

He forced himself to turn and meet Ian as the boy pelted across the office to barrel into his legs, hugging them.

"Dad," Ian said again, grinning up at him.

"Hey, lad," he said, smoothing Ian's messy hair away from his forehead with a hand that was suddenly steady.

David appeared, carrying Jackie.

"Sorry," he said. "There was no containing him once he heard there was a new pirate in town."

Emma came out of the office. "It's alright," she said. "We get it."

Jackie spotted Killian and reached for him without hesitation. David smiled and obliged, carrying her across the office towards Killian. David looked between Killian and Anne, and although he made no comment, Killian knew he was beginning to comprehend the exact nature of the situation.

David passed Jackie over, and the last of Killian's anger disappeared as he took his daughter. She put a tiny hand on either of his cheeks, smiling a big, gummy smile, green eyes scrunched up. She had only a tiny bit of hair, but it was all pale blonde, like Emma's and Ian's. Killian nuzzled her nose, and she giggled.

“ _Dad_?" Anne said smugly. "Well, well, well. _Someone's_ been busy. I didn't think you had the b--”

“That's enough, thanks," Emma said loudly, cutting Anne off.  

Anne just smirked. Keeping one arm wrapped around Killian's leg, Ian turned to face her. His grin was gone, and he wore his most impressive Emma scowl, the one Killian knew was meant to be intimidating.

“Who's this?” he demanded.

Killian rested on hand atop Ian's blonde head. He glanced at Emma and saw her small nod of encouragement.

_All hands on deck. Brace yourselves..._

“Ian, lad, this is...this is Anne Bonny. She's your aunt."

The Sheriff-in-training vanished, and it was just a six-year-old boy with sparkling blue eyes staring excitedly at a character from a story come to life.  “Aunt?" he half-shouted, pointing wildly between himself and Anne. "She's my _aunt_?"

Without waiting for an answer he leapt up to the bars and asked, “ _You're my aunt_?”

 “Aye,” Anne answered slowly. Her eyes darted to Killian for a moment before she arched one red brow at Ian and asked, "And who might you be?"

“I'm Ian! Well, my real name is Killian -- Killian _David_ \-- but everyone calls me Ian so they don't get me confused with my dad." He was visibly vibrating with excitement, speaking in a rush, trying to simultaneously climb the bars and pass bodily through them.

Anne just stared, dumbfounded by the onslaught that was Ian.

"So you're my dad's sister?" Ian continued. "How come I've never met you? Wait are you younger or older? Are you _really_ Anne Bonny? Your ship is the Pegasus, right? Did you know I named my dog after you?”

“I -- what?” Anne asked blankly.

“My dog!" Ian said. "I named her Bonny, after you! She's a puppy and I take care of her but she sorta looks after me, too. So, your ship. Did you bring it with you?"

“Aye...”

“Is it bigger than the Jolly?" Ian asked, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

Anne seemed to come back to herself. “Of course it is!" she snapped with annoyance. "Don't even _suggest_ that the Jolly Roger is anywhere _near_ as fine as my Pegasus."

"Can I see it?"

"Perhaps," Anne said, then glanced at Killian once more. "That is, if your parents ever decide to release me."

Killian gave her a warning look.

_Leave him out of this._

Anne sighed, then lowered herself to the floor to sit cross-legged. "Alas, it seems I am fated to remain trapped in this prison a while longer," she said. "So, what is it about me you wish to know!"

"Everything!" Ian said, and sat down too.

-

“ _You took on a kraken?"_ Ian squeaked.

“Aye. They're vicious creatures, and enormous -- large enough to capsize an entire ship with one tug of their slimy tentacles," Anne said, and wiggled her fingers at Ian through the bars of her cell, causing him to laugh hysterically and clutch his belly.

Watching them from the back office, Emma smiled. Much like Killian, Anne was a born storyteller. Her demeanor had completely changed; where earlier she'd been cold and closed-off, with Ian she was now friendly, open, and charming.

"He's completely enthralled,” David said. He was perched on the edge of the desk Emma sat at, arms folded over his chest, eyes trained on Ian and Anne.

_Beware: Guard Grandpa on duty._

"He is," Emma agreed. "This is like ten Christmases all rolled into one for him."

Outside, Anne hit the peak of her tale and Ian gasped, both hands clasped against his mouth.

"No way!" he said breathlessly.

"Yes, way," Anne said, smiling smugly with one eyebrow raised.

Killian was sitting on the couch near the cells with Jackie in his lap. Anne hadn't looked his way once since she'd begun talking to Ian.

David was looking too. "I don't know what happened between Killian and his sister, but I feel like half of the reason they don't get along is because they're so similar."

"I think so too," Emma said quietly. The hot head, the fierce stubbornness, the sarcasm and the smirk used as a mask; that was _exactly_ like another pirate Emma knew.

Suddenly, David was chuckling. "Another Jones," he said. "Hopefully this one won't hit me with a crowbar.”

"Mm," Emma said, considering. "You're probably safe from crow bars. I think head-butting is more her style--"

"Whoa, what did I miss?" said a deep, low voice from the doorway. Lancelot had arrived. He was staring across the office at the scene near the cells.

"We've got ourselves a prisoner, Lance," David said.

"Who is she?" Lancelot asked.

Emma stood and put a hand on one of Lancelot's shoulders. "All you need to know is: _watch her like a hawk_ ," she said.

Lancelot's eyebrows rose, but he didn't ask questions, and for that Emma was grateful.

She leaned past Lancelot and her dad and called, "Alright, time to go home!"

Ian spun, fixing her with sad blue eyes and a pouty lip, and Emma knew a fight was coming.

"C'mon, kid," she said briskly. "Your aunt needs some rest."

"But _mom_!" he whined.

"Ian," she said, leveling him with a mom glare. "It's after dinner time. We need to go home. You and Jackie need to eat and take a bath and go to bed."

" _Ian_ ," Killian added warningly.

“Fine,” Ian sighed. He knew any argument he could offer stood no chance against the both of them. He scrambled to his feet, and said to Anne, "I'll be back tomorrow to finish my interrogation."

Anne pulled a hand through her curls, smiling brightly. “You won't break me, lad,” she said with a wink. “Though I look forward to seeing you try."

Ian flashed her one more grin before he turned and trotted over to Killian, who was still keeping his distance with Jackie clutched against his chest. Ian leaned into them, and Jackie reached down to pat his face affectionately. Her hand reached his lips, and Ian blew a raspberry against her palm. She shrieked with laughter and pulled her hand away, turning into the shelter of Killian's chest for a moment before turning back with a big, expectant grin and offering her hand to Ian for him to do it again. Ian smiled and obliged, and then Killian joined in, ducking his head to drop a wet-sounding kiss to her cheek, making her giggle even more.

Emma watched Anne out of the corner of her eye. She was watching Killian and the kids, and Emma recognized the sad, lost look on her face. She was grieving for the past, for a time long ago when she'd been happy, when she'd had a family.

Finally, Anne turned away, and Emma decided it was time for them to leave.

"Alright, goofs," she said. "You ready?"

"Aye, love. Let's go home," Killian said. His eyes were bright and his face was red from laughing -- Ian and Jackie never failed to cheer him up, even at times when Emma couldn't.

Ian bounced over to her side and slipped his hand into hers.

"Can dad read me a bedtime story tonight?” Ian asked, looking between Emma and Killian.

"Dad's gotta work tonight," Emma said. "So if you want a story we've got to leave _now_."

Ian bolted, racing from the office as fast as he could.

"Stop at the door!" Killian called, then he turned to his sister. "Annie--" he started, but Anne's pleasant demeanor had evaporated, and it was clear she was finished with them for the night.

"Tomorrow," Emma said, laying her hand gently on Killian's arm.

He looked at her, and she smiled. He blinked, the pain that had momentarily appeared in his eyes disappearing, and nodded.

"Now, give me that baby," Emma teased. "I haven't held her _all day_."

Grinning, Killian transferred a happily gurgling Jackie into her arms, then Emma hooked her free arm through Killian's, and they walked from the office.

-

As soon as her brother and his family left, Anne began counting down the minutes in her head until it had been exactly an hour and a half.

_Time to go._

Anne stepped up to the bars. She slipped her arms through, leaned her face against them, and called loudly, “Oi, you! Big boy!"

Her guard raised his head and eyed her warily.

"Is it customary to starve prisoners in this world?" she asked. "That's bad form."

The man raised one eyebrow, then stood without a word and disappeared into a short side hallway. Anne waited, and after a moment her guard returned, carrying some sort of brightly-wrapped package.

“There's a dear," Annie said as he approached. "I was about to wither like a poor, delicate flower."

The man remained silent as he offered her the package. Anne turned her palm over, but made no move to accept it. With a roll of his eyes, her guard closed the gap and shoved the package against her fingers.

_Gotcha._

Anne raised her other hand and opened it to reveal a small pile of poppy dust laying in her palm. The man looked at it, and then at her, eyes widening as he realized his mistake -- but by then it was too late.

With a wink, Anne blew the dust into his face. He keeled over instantly and landed in a heap.

Anne smiled in satisfaction. "Just be thankful I didn't hit you," she muttered as she fished in her left boot for her set of lock picks. After a few minutes of fumbling and swearing, the door swung open, and Anne was free.

Her pistols and her belt with her cutlass were still lying atop one of the desks. She grabbed them and, with one final look around the room, made for the exit.

  _Now to find some real food._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ian finally makes his grand show in my story! YAY! I was so excited to write him into the story along with a baby Jackie cause that is so adorable. If anyone wishes to get an idea of what Anne looks like I do have some drawings my lovely partner drew and I have them on me if you finish to look. I'm on tumblr.


	4. Chapter 4

The station door swung shut noiselessly behind her as Anne stepped out into the street. The area seemed deserted, but even so Anne tugged her hat low over her eyes to hide her face before she took off walking. She kept her pace slow, to avoid suspicion.

"Like that will help," she grumbled to herself. She remembered the clothing the others had worn, and compared to them...she'd stick out like a sore thumb. Her bright red hair certainly didn't help matters. However, this wasn't the first time she'd ended up in a strange new world already in trouble and without an ounce of their currency to her pocket, and it certainly wouldn't be the last time.

Anne stopped. She took a long, deep breath, letting the slight chill of the evening air revive her, then tilted her head back and exhaled towards the sky. The lights from the street made it difficult to see the stars, but from what she could tell, none of the constellations were ones she recognized.

_But then again, the stars are different in every realm. Unique, but always beautiful,_ Anne mused to herself as her eyes roamed the night sky. It calmed her, as it always did -- whenever she felt lonely, or whenever the weight of her worries felt close to crushing her, the stargazing always helped her mind unwind.

Feeling slightly less on edge, Anne exhaled again and dropped her eyes to her left hand, at the bandage wrapped around the middle of her palm. She frowned and adjusted the material, keeping what lay underneath hidden.

Would coming here be enough? Had she managed to outrun death?

Anne cast one last glance skyward and gave fate the most brutal "fuck you" glare she could manage.

Her fate was not to die. _Not yet._

She surveyed the street and took another deep breath, and this time, the faint aroma of cooking food reached her nostrils. Her stomach growled lowly, reminding her she hadn't eaten in too long. She'd left whatever food her jailor had brought her back in her cell -- something packaged that gaudily could _not_ be good for you -- and now, she felt starved.

_Time to eat._

But first, perhaps, a detour...

-

 

“I see.” Regina finally said, her eyes narrowed and focused on Emma's face.

They were in the kitchen. She had just brought Regina up to speed on everything that had happened in the past 5 hours, only leaving out the bits of Anne and Killian's story that were too private and didn't need to be shared. Emma was leaning against the counter top. Her hair and the front of her shirt were slightly damp from the kids' bath time, and she smelled faintly of baby bubble bath and Ian's Batman shampoo. Regina was at the table, a cup of coffee lying untouched before her on the table.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest and, ignoring Regina's glare, said, "So, can you look into the spells aboard Anne's ship? I don't know how she blocked my magic, but-"

"For goodness sake, Emma, I'm not a magical encyclopedia!" Regina snapped, jerking out of her chair and to her feet. "And I did _not_ appreciate being brushed to the side at the docks only to be called again when it suits _you_ , Sheriff.”

“Yea, I'm...I'm sorry about that,” Emma said. She leaned away from the counter so she was standing eye-to-eye with Regina. "I didn't know the whole story, at the time, and I didn't know how much of Killian's history with his sister he wanted made public. He deserves his privacy. What would you have done if you had been in my place, and it had been Robin's sister who showed up?"

Regina was silent, but Emma saw her words penetrating. After a moment, Regina sighed and retrieved her bag from the floor.

“I'll see what I can find in my vault," she said, turning towards the door. "But I can't promise anything. And I think your best bet is  _still_ Belle.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, following Regina from the kitchen. “Really. I appreciate it.”

“Thank you for the coffee," Regina said stiffly.

_Translation: Fuck You._

Emma remained leaning against the doorway until Regina's car had turned the corner and driven from view. She let out a heavy sigh into the evening air, letting the weight of her and Regina's conversation drift away, before she turned back into the house.

It was unusually quiet, and Emma smiled to herself. _This_ silence wasn't suspicious, and she knew why. She climbed the stairs slowly, making as little noise as possible. As she reached the landing at the top, she heard Killian's voice coming from Ian's room.

“And the pirate, so shocked by Emma's request, threw the dart right into the wall instead of the board."

Killian was reading _their_ story to Ian and Jackie. Emma tiptoed down the hallway, determined not to disturb her pirates.

"His back was turned so she couldn't see his gobsmacked expression, but the pirate quickly hid his surprise behind a smirk and said-"

“Shouldn't _I_ be the one asking you out?” Ian answered instead.

Emma reached the doorway and peeked inside. Killian was sitting in Ian's bed with Jackie in his lap and Ian snuggled against his side with one of his fingers was clasped firmly in his sister's tiny fist. Between the three of them was Henry's famous storybook, the one that had brought Emma to town in the first place and set her on the long path to this life of happiness she'd found with Killian and their family.

Emma sighed quietly to herself and rested her head against the doorframe, taking in the scene before her.

Ian was wearing his constellation-patterned pajamas -- the ones that were becoming too short at the wrist and ankle but he insisted on wearing every night anyway -- and Jackie had on a sleeper with bright yellow polka dots. Killian had changed out of his wet clothes from earlier (bath time had been a group effort that night, as usual) and into fresh jeans, shirt, and vest for work, but he still had a trace of soap suds in his dark hair. The puppy Bonny, never far from either Ian or Jackie, was draped across Killian's ankles. She was fast asleep, and Emma hoped her human namesake was doing the same in her cell at the station.

Killian smiled at Ian before continuing the story. 

“Aye. And then Emma responded, 'Should of known you'd be old fashioned given your age. What are you, 300?'"

Ian giggled at that, and seeing her brother do so also made Jackie start laughing. Killian dipped his head to press a kiss to her forehead, and then one to Ian's.

Ian stopped laughing and snuggled deeper into his dad's side. “Dad?” he asked.

“Yes, lad?”

“Did you _really_ get your hand back for your date with mom?”

“Aye, I did," Killian said. "However, there were some...complications. I had to return my hand after that one date."

“But...you have it now?”

“Aye, lad. I have my hand back for one reason, and one reason only?"

"What's that?"

Killian grinned mischievously. "So I can hold you and your sister...and tickle you without mercy!”

He set the book aside, planted one hand firmly on Jackie's belly to hold her steady, then began furiously tickling Ian with the other. Ian squealed and squirmed, and Jackie, sitting safe and secure, watched with interest and giggled loudly.

The puppy lifted her head at the noise, barked, and scrambling over. She pounced on Killian's tickling hand and began licking his face, making Killian groan and growl, " _Damn dog_!"

After several moments, Killian ceased his attacks when Ian finally squealed, “Parley! Parley!”

Bonny, believing herself responsible for the rescue of her boy, sat then with her tail thumping the bed covers and her whole body wriggling. Killian straightened and began wiping the dog slobber from his cheeks. His dark hair had grown a little long again, and it flopped over his blue eyes, but Emma could still see the way they sparkled with joy.

Seeing her family like this -- Killian and Ian with matching grins, Jackie smiling gummily and reaching for her father and brother -- made Emma's heart swell with happiness and warmed her entire being.

"Alright," Emma said with mock sternness. "Bed time."

Two pairs of identical blue eyes looked up at her with guilty expressions that clearly said:  _Mom's caught us._

Emma smiled, so Ian would know she wasn't actually angry with them. "Your dad's late for work."

"I was occupied with some very important business, Swan," Killian said, even as he began easing himself and Jackie off the bed. "I was recounting the tale of the famous pirate captain who wooed the great Savior of Storybrooke!"

Emma managed to keep an eye-roll in check -- barely. "Of course you were," she said. "But you're going to have to continue that tale tomorrow night, because you, _Mr. Pirate_ , have a bar to run, and these little pirates need to sleep."

Emma took Jackie into her arms. The little girl yawned immediately and curled against her chest.

"Goodnight, Jackie!" Ian said, and stood on his bed in order to reach his sister's head and place a kiss there.

"Let's get you to bed, cutie," Emma cooed softly to the baby as she carried her to the nursery and placed her in the crib. Jackie was well past her colic stage, and while she still woke up at least once every night, she always fell asleep easily. It took only a few minutes of Emma humming and rubbing her tummy before her eyes closed and her breathing evened out.

Emma brushed her fingers gently against Jackie's cheeks before turning on the night light and turning off the overhead and stepping out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

Killian was down the hall, closing Ian's door.

"He occupied?" Emma asked.

"Aye, love. Bonny is watching over him."

"One version of her..." Emma said lightly.

Killian chuckled. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead. She leaned into him and sighed contentedly, then she laughed.

"You're covered in dog drool," she said, and reached up to gently wipe his cheeks and jaw.

Killian just grinned down at her and held still until she was finished, then tugged her hips tighter against his. Her arms went around his neck, encouraging him to lower his head to rest against hers. She stood that way for a moment, eyes closed, not saying anything, just enjoying the feeling of him against her, around her, and then she tilted her chin up.

His lips were there, waiting. They were soft and gentle against hers. The kiss was short and chaste, but it had been desperately needed.

"We'll get through this, Killian. I promise."

Killian exhaled deeply and nodded. "As much as I'd love to stay, Emma, the bar-"

"I know," she said. "I'll be here, if you need me. If I'm asleep when you get back, wake me up."

"I love you, Emma."

"I love you, too, Killian."

- 

"There you are, mate!" Will called from behind the bar. "Took you long enough!" He slid a pint across the countertop to a customer, collected their cash and deposited it in the register, then resumed cleaning a glass with the towel he'd slung over his shoulder.

"Sorry, mate. Family come first,” Killian said. He shrugged out of his jacket and stowed it behind the bar, then began rolling up his sleeves.

"Quite alright. I understand. You can make it up to me though by changing the barrels," Will said, and winked. "The dwarves are drinking us dry tonight!”

Killian quirked one eyebrow. "Sometimes I think you forget who works for whom, young Will."

"And I think _you_ forget who does all the bloody work around here when you're at home kissing your wife!"

"Bloody thief," Killian grumbled, but he was grinning. As he slipped out from behind the counter and started easing through the crowd of customers towards the back stairs, he called, "Anything else we need from the cellar, while I'm down there?"

-

 

The bar door swung open, then closed with a thud. Anne straightened her dark navy coat, ensuring her weapons were well-hidden, then swept her hat off, loosing her red hair to fall freely down her shoulders and frame her face. 

"Bloody hell," breathed a voice. "That's a lot of red." Anne turned her head to see the barman gaping at her. She arched an eyebrow in his direction, and smirked when his cheeks burned red.

"Tell me barman, how much does a drink to warm a sailor's belly cost?" Anne waited patiently for his answer, having learned with age that her tongue was as useful as her sword or any other weapon; use is wisely and you may get what you need. The barman, however, remained speechless.

"No matter," Anne said, turning her gaze to the bar at large. "I'll _earn_ my drink." 

The barman cleared his throat. "What, love?" he asked. He looked slightly terrified, and slightly turned on.

Anne said nothing. She strode to the back, where there was an open space that she assumed a band might play in if one was there. She tossed her hat to the floor, upside-down, then gently set the slim case she was carrying on a stool, and removed from it her fiddle. It was carved from light-colored wood. It was both well-loved and well-worn; the strings were different colors from having been replaced at intervals over time.

As Anne raised the fiddle to her chin, many patrons stopped their chatter and turned towards her. There was a tense moment as everybody waited with their breath held, and then Anne laid her bow upon the strings and began to play.

Smiles lit up all around the room as the first lively notes filled the air. Impressed glances and whispers were exchanged, and, gradually, people carefully crept forward to feet a coin or a paper bill to her cause.

Anne smiled. She bowed and offered the crowd a wink, and continued playing.

-

Killian had just finished switching out the two blown kegs for fresh ones when the sound of a fiddle reached his ears. He cocked his head, turning his ear towards the stairs.

Realization hit him straight away: only _one_ person could play like that.

He bounded up the steps two at a time and burst back into the bar, breathing heavily. His eyes widened when he saw the entire room cheering and clapping, and Anne in the center of it all with her fiddle beneath her chin and a genuine smile on her face.

As Killian watched, a mixture of both pride and deep pain rose in his chest.

She'd gotten better.

-

_A long time ago..._

"Give us a tune, lass!"

Anne laughed as there were shouts of agreement all around the tavern. Her long hair was tied back into two braids, and there was a tray full of tankards balanced in one of her hands.

"I don't think-" she started.

"I think it's a splendid idea." Killian appeared at her side and threw an arm over her shoulder with a wink. "I've heard you practicing. You've got a talent with that fiddle, Anne. Indulge us.”

"I, for once, agree with our brother here, Annie," Liam said. He took the tray from her and set it on a table. "Please, entertain us with your music!"

Anne groaned. "That's not fair. You _know_ I can't say no to you two."

"Annie, please! We're your favorite brothers and we've been away _so_ long." Killian rubbed his newly-grown scruff against the side of Anne's face.

"KILLIAN! SHOVE OFF!" Anne barked, pushing his face away only to have it return with a vengeance, his prickly chin like sandpaper against her cheek. " _Gods_ , Killian. I know the only reason you have that thing is so some fool lass will fall for you." 

"It makes me look dashing," Killian said, drawing himself up and grinning proudly.

" _No_. It just makes you look... _older_. And not -- Liam, what's the word?"

"Baby-faced?"

"Yes! That! Now you actually look like a man and not a child." Anne teased. Killian's surly scowl was immensely satisfying.

"Using Liam against me isn't fair-" he started sullenly.

"After the way you two just teamed up against me? You deserve it!”

Anne swept away to retrieve her fiddle, then jumped onto the stage as the patrons roared approval and raised their drinks into the air.

"Come on, lass!"

"A tune for our ears!"

"Bless us with your music and your beauty!"

That last was met with twin glares from the Jones brothers, and the man who'd foolishly uttered it quieted and meekly lowered his eyes to his drink.

Anne shook her head -- _brothers_ \-- and placed the fiddle beneath her chin. As the first lively notes graced the air, Killian leaned in close to Liam.

"She's been practicing," he noted.

"Aye. She could go far with that fiddle of hers," Liam admitted quietly. "Perhaps we could-"

"Save up. Send her somewhere to get a private education," Killian finished for him. "She deserves that much."

"She deserves much better than anything you or I could offer her."

Killian nodded in silent agreement. He and Liam were destined to be burdened by the weight of their father's sins forever, but Anne...

"Don't tell her," Liam said. "She'll never let us get away with it. She'll insist on paying us back."

"Stubborn through and through," Killian said fondly.

"A _Jones_ through and through," Liam corrected, and they shared a grin.

 

- __  
  
The memories washed over him like a tidal wave, hitting him hard, disorienting him...and then, slowly fading to reveal the present: Anne was bowing, her tune finished, and the bar was applauding her boisterously.

Suddenly, Killian's phone rang, and, grateful for the distraction and the excuse to take a moment to breathe and adjust to reality, he stepped back into the stairwell. He slipped the phone from his pocket, glanced at who was calling (Emma), and raised the device to his ear.

_"Killian, I just got a call from Lancelot-"_

"She's here, Emma," he said. "Don't worry."

There was a sigh on the other end. " _I'm not surprised she got out, I'll come down as soon as possible."_

"Actually, Swan.. Perhaps it's time I talked to my sister. In private."

Emma was silent. Killian heard the sound of her putting her shoes back on the floor.

"I love you," she said, and her words filled him, gave him the strength he needed.

"I love you, too," he said, and hung up.

He lingered in the doorway, unnoticed, watching Anne count the money in her hat with confusion written clearly across her face, then turn on her heel and approach the bar. Will watched too, clearly flustered by the sight of her walking towards him.

_Poor man._

Killian took a deep breath.

A fight was coming, but he didn't see any other option.

-

Killian pulled up a seat next to Anne. She turned her head minutely and glared murderously. Will looked between them, perhaps putting the pieces together, but before he could open his mouth and interrupt, Killian raised an eyebrow and gestured with his fingers. Will nodded, and within seconds there was a tumbler of rum in Killian's hand.

Anne maintained her silence. She had turned her eyes away, and was sipping her drink as if Killian didn't exist.

Killian sighed and dragged a hand through his hair.

"Liam..." he said, and saw Anne stiffen at the mention of their oldest brother, but he continued "Liam would of been proud of how far you've come with that fiddle. He always thought you'd get somewhere on that thing."

"Aye," Anne said roughly, still not meeting his eyes. "That's the one thing he encouraged me to do that I didn't rebel against."

"He would probably also have yelled at us for acting this way," Killian said dryly.

Anne snorted and took another long sip of her drink before setting it down on the bar with a thump. She turned to look at him, then, and said viciously, "We never listened to him when he was alive, so why should I start listening to him now?"

"Annie-"

Her eyes blazed. "What are you even doing here Hook?" she demanded. "I thought you'd be at home playing 'happy family' with that blondie."

Killian felt his anger kindle, deep inside him.

"This is _my_ bar you're in," he replied curtly. "And you'll watch your tongue when you speak of my family, Annie."

Anne tossed her head and rolled her eyes. "It figures that the only place that serves a spot to drink in this town is yours. I can't seem to avoid you, can I? When I want you around, you're not there. Yet when I try to avoid you, you stick to me like a fucking leech." 

"Keep running your mouth and I'll throw you out of here," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Don't disrespect me in my own bar, Annie. Even I have my limits."

It was difficult, keeping his anger in check even as hers flared, but he held on.

"Don't worry. I'm leaving," she spat, slamming a handful of bills onto the counter. "I can't stand the sight of you." She slipped off the stool, and, ignoring Will trying to give her change, grabbed her fiddle from the floor and was gone with a flick of her red hair and a slam of the door.

"I'll be right back," Killian growled to Will, and followed her.

"Annie!" he shouted. "Annie, wait!"

Killian caught up to her, and just as he reached out to grab her shoulder, she spun.

"Tell me, Hook. What age?" she hissed bitterly.

"What?" he asked, giving his head a little shake to indicate his confusion.

"At what age will your children be when you abandon your family? How old will Ian be when you throw him away like a piece of trash?"

Killian felt both hot and cold. The guilt that had propelled him after his sister withered and died, and resignation settled in its place. At the same time, fury -- a pure, blinding fury he hadn't felt in a long time -- rose up and choked him with its heat. His hands balled themselves into fists and shook with the violence he was barely containing.

"How old, hm?" Anne continued, mindless of the rage burning through Killian. "Will he be 8? As you were? Will he be 8 when you abandon him the way our father abandoned you? The way _you_ abandoned _me_?"

The tenuous hold he had on his temper snapped

"DON'T YOU _DARE_ COMPARE ME TO THAT MAN!" he bellowed. "DON'T YOU DARE SAY SUCH A THING TO ME!"

"Why? Because it's true?" His sister spat back.

"I AM NOTHING LIKE OUR FATHER! I WOULD NEVER ABANDON EMMA OR OUR CHLDREN!"

He didn't care if the whole damn street heard him. He couldn't let that stand. He wasn't his father; he wasn't Brennan. He wasn't Captain Hook, either. Not anymore.

"I love my family more than anything in this universe -- more than my own existence -- so don't you dare suggest such a thing to me again," he said, voice still quaking with anger. "You know _nothing_."

He was Killian Jones. Husband to Emma Swan. Father to Ian and Jackie. And he would never, _ever_ abandon them.

"You think I can trust a single fucking word you say to me?" Anne was glaring at him with her teeth bared. Tears streamed down her face. Suddenly, she leapt forward and shoved him hard, forcing him to take two stumbling steps backwards.

"YOU LEFT ME!" she screamed. "You abandoned me when I needed you the most. They tied me to a fucking rock and threw me into the sea to drown AND WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?"

Anne's lip trembled as she took deep breaths. "You weren't there. I was screaming for you, Killian. And you weren't there."

Silence filled the empty street. Killian and Anne stared at each other, their fury spent.

"I'm sorry, Annie. I didn't mean for you to get hurt. You have to believe me. And I can't...I can't change the past. I can only try and make amends for it now. Please."

Anne's eyes were cold, and her voice flat as she said, "The only reason you're not dead where you stand is because of Ian and Jackie. I won't have them live the life we did. I won't have them grow up fatherless.”

And with that she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Killian alone in the dark street.

-

Anne walked fast, trying her hardest not to run. She could feel Killian's eyes burning holes in the back of her head.

She'd regretted accusing him of abandoning his children as soon as the words left her mouth: she'd seen the adoration on his face when he'd held his daughter, and she'd seen the joy in the lad Ian's eyes as he'd raced into his father's arms. She knew Killian wasn't like Brennan...

But she'd run her mouth anyway.

And as soon as she'd seen the pain she inflicted, as soon as she'd seen how deeply her words cut him, she'd pounced on the opportunity to hurt him the way he'd hurt her.

_Was it worth it?_

As she fled, fresh tears stung her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh My Lord! This past week has been tough for both me and phthalo when it came to writing, she had her own storyline to finish and I had a concussion. Sorry about the wait


	5. Chapter 5

t was 10:30, and Ian was up _way_ past his bedtime.

"Alright, kid. Bedtime," Emma called down the hall as she approached his room. The door was half open, and through the gap Emma could see Ian sprawled on the floor on his belly, which meant he was drawing.

"Ten more minutes!" Ian called back. Emma smiled to herself. Bartering for extra awake time after Killian left for work was her and Ian's usual Friday night routine.

"I've already given you an extra half hour. It's bedtime for real-" Emma's mouth fell open in horror and she stumbled to a halt as she pushed Ian's bedroom door open the rest of the way. " _What happened_?"

Emma had stepped into a crime scene where the murder victim was a jar of red glitter.

It was _everywhere_ : caught in Ian's hair and smeared across his cheeks; embedded (probably permanently) in the rug; stuck to the dog...

" _Ian!"_ she spluttered _._

He blinked up at her innocently, fluttering his long lashes and giving her the biggest, most pleading blue eyes he could muster.

"A little bit longer? Please?" he begged, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. The glitter made him _sparkle_ , and Emma had to choke down her laughter.

“Mom, pleeease? I'm almost finished!”

Bonny looked up then, and her tongue lolled out of her mouth to reveal even more red glitter.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and held it.

_It's fine. Nobody died. Nobody got hurt. It's fine._

When she opened her eyes again she found Ian was still staring at her. He'd dropped the sulkiness they both knew was an act and, realizing he'd disappointed her, was looking genuinely remorseful.

"Alright," Emma said, sighing deeply. "Alright. What are you so desperate to finish that can't wait until morning?"

Ian brightened again immediately.

"This!" he said, and jumped to his feet with his drawing held over his head. More glitter slid from the paper and rained to the floor, but Emma steadfastly ignored it. Instead, she focused on Ian's drawing.

It was picture of Anne. Ian had used the glitter to color her fiery locks.

"Wow," she said, cautiously taking the drawing from his hands. “I think you've got your aunt down pretty good. You've even got her scars.” She used a fingertip to gently trace the line Ian had drawn across Anne's forehead.

"Do you like it?" Ian asked, as he always did when he presented her with a freshly-made piece of artwork.

"I do," Emma said honestly. "And I think your aunt's really going to like it too."

Ian slipped his arms around her waist and hugged her, resting his head against her stomach.

"She's really sad," he said quietly.

"Sad?"

"Yea. She's really mad at dad but she loves him and really misses him too. I don't want her to be sad," he said, and turned his face into her shirt, muffling his voice. "And I don't want her to be mad at dad, either."

Emma ran her fingers through Ian's hair. "Don't worry about your aunt Anne and your dad, okay? They'll work things out."

Ian nodded.

"How does 10 more minutes to work on your picture sound?"

Ian pulled his head up and grinned at her.

Emma arched one eyebrow. "It's gonna cost you though," she said.

The smile slipped from his face. He knew what was coming.

" _Thirty kisses_!" Emma declared.

"Five," he countered.

_Pirate through and through._

"Twenty."

"Fifteen."

"Deal," Emma said. "You owe me fifteen kisses."

He was smirking smugly, like he thought he'd gotten off easy, so Emma added, " _And_ you have to clean up all this glitter afterwards."

-

Emma was helping Ian vacuum the rug with the mini hand-vac (it didn't work very well for most things, but it could handle some glitter and it wouldn't wake up Jackie with its noise) when she heard the front door shut, announcing Killian's return. She began to worry immediately. He was early, and usually he'd call out a quiet greeting if he knew she was awake, but he was silent.

"I'll be right back," Emma said to Ian. "And don't forget the dog."

"You want me to vacuum _Bonny_?" Ian asked incredulously.

"Yea. It won't hurt her; she'll probably actually like it. Just, you know, only do her fur. Don't vacuum her tongue."

Ian grinned at Bonny, and Bonny cocked her head in response. Emma shook hers and left, quietly padding down the stairs in search of Killian.

He was in the entrance hallway still in his jacket and his boots, standing with his back leaned against the front door and his head bowed.

"Killian?" she asked as she approached.

He lifted his eyes to hers, and Emma almost gasped at how emotionally _wrecked_ he looked; like a ship that had weathered a mighty storm and barely survived, struggling back to safe harbor, battered and nearly broken.

She wrapped her arms around him and drew his head onto her shoulder.

“Come back to me, Killian,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his forehead. “I'm here.”

As she stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, he came to life with a little shudder. His own arms slipped around her waist and he pulled her tightly to his chest.

He buried his face further into her shoulder, and said, "She compared me to me father, Swan."

"You're not him," she said, without hesitation.

"She said I would abandon you and our family,” he continued.

Emma shifted. She stepped back slightly so she could hold Killian's face in between her palms. His chin rested heavily in her hands, as if he didn't have the strength to hold it up. His eyes were closed, his lips twisted in a grimace.

" _You're not him_ ," she repeated. "Killian, look at me."

He did. He picked his head up and his blue eyes found hers.

"Anne just wanted to hurt you," Emma said, and she saw the way his eyes narrowed for a moment as he took it in, as he absorbed the pain that statement caused him, but she didn't relent. "She's angry and confused so she's lashing out. What she said isn't true."

"Swan-"

" _Killian_ ," she said, silencing him. "You'd never abandon us. You love us too much."

She said the last bit playfully, and was rewarded with a smile. It was small, but it was there. His eyes fluttered shut, and he lifted a hand to cover one of hers.

"I was so angry," he said in a whisper. "For a moment I felt close to the man I once was."

"You're not that man anymore, Killian. You're the man I love, and you're the man our kids love."

"Aye," he said, and nodded, as if to himself.

"We'll get through this," she said. "We always have and always will."

His thumb brushed her knuckles, and then slowly-- _slowly_ \--the tension left his shoulders.

"Kiss me," she said quietly.

He opened his eyes again, and his smile was back.

"As my lady wishes," he said, and pressed his lips to hers. He was gentle, at first, his lips soft on hers, but then his hand was at the small of her back and he was turning her and pushing her up against the door in his place. His tongue traced her bottom lip, and she opened to him, swirling her tongue with his, gasping into his mouth.

"Dad?"

With a grunt, Killian broke their kiss and turned his head. Ian was standing on the landing, giving them that disapproving, grossed-out look that only a 6-year-old could manage.

Killian cleared his throat, and said, "Yes, lad?"

Satisfied that they were finished kissing, Ian Jones, Sheriff of the No-Making-Out Police, bounced down the last few stairs and trotted over. He was clutching his drawing to his chest.

"Ian," Killian said, brow crinkling as he took in Ian's glitter-splattered pajamas. "What have you been up to?"

He looked to Emma, but she just bit her lip and shook her head. 

"I wanted to make something for aunt Anne," he said, and held his drawing up.

Emma felt Killian go rigid again, but he took the drawing from Ian and inspected it with all his usual fondness.

"She'll love it," he said. "I think she'll especially like what you've done with her hair. The glitter was a grand idea. I think your mother should take you tomorrow-"

"Actually," Emma cut in, "I have a better idea.

Killian and Ian both quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Trust me," she said.

-

Anne stood atop the quarterdeck of the Pegasus, staring out over the water. She had shrugged out of her heavy navy jacket and tossed it aside, and now stood only in a loose white shirt and breeches. The night air was pleasantly cool, but it felt icy on her tear-stained cheeks.

"I swore no more crying over that man," she hissed angrily at herself. She pounded the railing with her fist, relishing the sting along her knuckles.

She should have known better. She should have-

"Permission to come aboard?"

Anne turned, her hand going automatically to the blade at her hip, but then she spotted Little Killian. He was standing at the bottom of the gangplank, staring eagerly up at her. He was clad in some sort of strange nightwear, and something in his hair and on his face sparkled strangely in the moonlight. Killian stood behind him. He had one hand resting on the lad's shoulder, but his face was turned away.

Anne sniffed, hoping her blocked nose and raw, red eyes weren't too obvious, and strode to the top of the gangplank. There, she bowed low, and said, "Welcome aboard the Pegasus, young master!"

Whatever her grievances with her brother--and sister-in-law--she wouldn't let that affect her relationship with her nephew and niece. Little Killian and Jackie deserved a happy childhood, unlike the one Anne and her brothers had been denied.

Ian flashed his father a grin before rushing up the gangplank to meet her.

Anne straightened and planted her hands on her hips. "I thought my interrogation wasn't until tomorrow," she said.

"You escaped! I had to come capture you and bring you back," Ian replied cheekily.

Anne smiled--it was difficult not to, when faced with such brilliant cheerfulness--and said, "Aye. Well, if you're my captor then I shall go willingly." Then she dropped her voice low, and with a wink, added, "Don't tell your mother that, though."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Killian step away and move farther down the dock, towards the water. Part of her wanted to call after him, ask him to stay, to come aboard--she turned her head, opened her mouth--but then the moment passed, and once more resentment settled like a stone in her stomach.

Ian was watching her like he knew. The lad was certainly perceptive--something he seemed to have gained from both his parents. Anne cast about for a change of subject, a distraction, and noticed the paper in his hands.

"What's this, lad?" she asked. "A treasure map? Or, perhaps you've already discovered the treasure and that's why you're so sparkly?"

"It's not a map," Ian corrected. "It's a drawing!"

"A drawing? Of what?"

"Of you!"

He handed the paper over for Anne's inspection, and she took it gently.

It was indeed a portrait of her. He'd captured everything in fine detail: her navy coat, her cutlass and her pistols, the scars across her face, and he'd even drawn her eyebrow raised. And her hair...her hair was made up of some vibrant, glittery red material--the same material that sparkled in Ian's hair and on his cheeks.

"You truly see my hair so brightly?" she asked with a laugh.

Ian nodded, grinning. Anne knelt in front of him, cradling the drawing in both hands.

"This is truly a treasure, lad," she said. "I shall guard it with my life, Little Killian."

He blushed when she called him 'Little Killian', and all of a sudden he was hugging her. Anne froze in shock. She couldn't remember the last time she hugged another person--let alone a _child_. He was so small, and his arms were around her neck so tightly, and _gods_ he was _warm_ , like a little burning coal.

Her arms went around him hesitantly, and then she felt warm too.

"Where are you going to put it?" Ian asked into her hair.

"In my cabin, above my bed, like the grand portrait it is," she promised softly.

He nodded and stepped back.

"Are you planning to stay? I could make us something warm to drink if you'd like?"

"Mmhm!" Ian said, nodding vigorously. "I want to teach you the constellations!"

Anne raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"Yep! Dad said every realm's got different ones, and every sailor needs to learn them."

"That's true. The stars have been our map for centuries. For one to truly sail every ocean, one must learn each and every star by name. Are the stars on your clothes the same as the ones in the sky?"

"Uh-huh," Ian said, smiling down at his shirt. He pointed to one that resembled a ladle. "This one's the Big Dipper. See it?"

He raised his hand towards the sky, and Anne followed the path of his finger. Hanging above them was a constellation identical to the one on his shirt.

"Aye," she said. "I do."

She looked at Ian then, at the stars reflected in his blue eyes, and for a moment she was seeing her brother as a boy. Ian didn't have the same sadness--the _longing_ \--in his gaze that Killian had had, however, and that made Anne happy.

"Hey, do you have a telescope?" Ian asked.

"I have a spyglass if that will help you,” she said. At Ian's nod, she took his hand in hers and led him to the quarterdeck.  

-

Ian was a delightful teacher, and Anne could hear Killian in his voice as, with the certainty of a veteran sailor, he pointed out the constellations one by one, told her their names, and then explained some of the stories behind them. Anne listened, only interrupting when she needed clarification.

"And that one's the Pegasus," Ian finished.

"Pegasus?" she asked in surprise. "I know that tale very well; it's your aunt's favorite."

"You have it on your black flag," Ian said. "And your figurehead."

"Aye, _and_..." she said, and pulled the collar of her shirt aside to reveal a Pegasus tattoo just beneath her collarbone.

"You have a tattoo?" Ian gushed. "That's awesome! Mom and dad have tattoos, too. But they won't let me get one."

His forehead crinkled in consternation.

Anne ruffled his hair. "Perhaps when you're older I might get you one in secret," Anne said. "Now, are you hungry? Would you like some bread and cheese? We could go below and I can hang your portrait of me."

"Okay," he said.

Anne went to the railing. She could see Killian, standing at the edge of the dock, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes on the stars.

"May I take him below for something to eat?" she called.

Killian turned his head towards her. He was silent for a moment, and then he said, "Aye. You have 15 minutes. He needs to go to bed, otherwise he'll be a terror in the morning."

 -

When they entered her cabin, something atop the table caught her eye, and in an instant she had an idea.

It was so simple, so _easy_...and it might just work.

-

By the time they finished their meal of bread and cheese, Ian was yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Are you tired, lad?" she asked.

"No," he said stubbornly.

"Come over here, then. I have something for you," she said, and gestured for him to come closer. He did, and she opened her hand, presenting to him a small golden Pegasus statue no larger than her palm.

"I need you to listen carefully, Little Killian; this is very important," she said. She pressed the figurine into his fingers. He looked down at it, then back at her, questioningly.

She fixed him with a steady gaze. "I need you to hide this somewhere safe, can you do that?"

"Yes," he said, and she could tell by his tone of voice that he understood how serious she was.

"You can't tell your parents--you can't tell _anyone_ , do you understand? You're the only one I trust, Little Killian.

She saw him swallow hard, saw his jaw clench.

"Promise me, lad. Promise me you can keep this a secret."

"I promise," he said solemnly.

"Thank you, lad."

He gave her a small smile.

Anne returned his smile. "I actually have _two_ gifts for you. And this next one you don't have to keep a secret."

His smile became a huge grin.

She took her spyglass and handed it to him. Ian's eyes lit up.

"Really?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Aye, it's yours, lad. The spyglass is a key tool for any sailor, and I figured you're old enough to have one."

"Thank you!" he said, and threw his arms around her neck. This time, she didn't hesitate to hug him back.

"You're welcome," she said, squeezing him tightly. "I hope it serves you as well as it served me. Now, put those away somewhere safe, and I'll tell you why the Pegasus is my favorite."

He tucked the golden statue into his sock, but the spyglass he just held onto, and Anne didn't argue. She sat at the table, and he sat across from her, watching her intently.

"Once upon a time," she said, "there was a beautiful Pegasus, white as the purest snow. Many a great hero tried to tame him, but he was too proud, and refused to bow to any soul..."

-

_A long time ago._

"However, one day, while visiting his favorite lake for a drink, the Pegasus got himself caught in a horrible trap!"

Annie, barely 6 years old, gasped and snuggled deeper into Killian's side. He paused and glanced down at her, offering her a reassuring smile before turning back to the book in his hand.

"Despite his mighty strength, the Pegasus couldn't break free. Many came to help him, but the Pegasus refused their aid, for he knew that in return they wanted his submission. Days passed, and he grew weak and tired."

Killian paused to turn the page.

"Then, out of nowhere, came a little girl. She was small and fragile, but she was kind and selfless, and she freed the Pegasus from his trap."

"She did, Killy?"

"Aye, she did," he said, and raised an eyebrow at her before continuing. "She fed him what little food she had, and stayed by his side until he regained his strength. When finally he was ready, he said-" Killian leaned over and blew a horsey snort into his sister's hair, making her giggle and push his face away. "Then he said, 'Young lady, you have saved me, and in return, I shall grant you one wish-"

"What did she wish for?"

"Patience, Annie, patience," Killian scolded gently.

"The little girl said, 'Will you take me into the sky and across the ocean?' And the Pegasus knelt down and took the little girl upon his back. He spread his wings and leapt into the sky, keeping his promise to the girl and flying across the vast ocean." Killian turned the final page. "For one act of kindness can change someone's life forever."

"That's it?" Annie demanded, frowning at her brother.

"What do you mean that's it?" Killian spluttered. "I thought it was a good tale."

"But there has to be more! I want to know what adventures they went on!" Anne complained.

Killian put the book down. "Perhaps we can make our own version: a girl with bright red hair, and her faithful Pegasus,” he snorted into her face again, causing another giggle. "What do you say?"

"Yes, please, Killy!"

Grinning, Killian got on all fours, and Annie scrambled onto his back.

"Giddy up, Pegasus! To adventure!” she proclaimed, and kicked his sides.

"Easy, Annie!" Killian grunted. "I'm not an actual horse!"

-

Killian stood at the edge of the docks, waiting. It had been longer than 15 minutes, and while he desperately wanted to get Ian to bed, he didn't wish to disturb his time with his aunt. Killian trusted Emma--trusted that she was right about Ian breaking down Anne's walls, and about _family_ being the key to helping her.

He _wanted_ to help her; he _wanted_ her to forgive him.

The gangplank creaked behind him and Killian turned. Anne was descending from the Pegasus, carrying a sleeping Ian.

"Little lad's tuckered out," Anne said, with no trace of coldness in her voice. She passed Ian over and made sure he was securely tucked into his arms before smiling. She brushed a stray lock of hair from Ian's forehead, and said, "He's wonderful, Killian. He's so full of energy and life."

"Aye, you should see him right after lunch--he turns the whole house upside down," Killian said softly. Ian stirred and murmured, but remained asleep.

Silence stretched between them. Anne ducked her head and bit her lip.

Killian took a deep breath, and started to leave. "I'll...Ian will see you tomorrow, probably-"

"What I said about earlier," Anne said suddenly, cutting him off. "About you being like our father."

Killian froze. Anne raised her eyes to his, and her expression was completely calm. "I was wrong," she said. "You may be an arse, but you're a good father. And I'm sorry I said those things. You would never abandon Ian or Emma or Jackie. I shouldn't have said that."

Killian swallowed past the lump in his throat, and blinked furiously as tears welled in his eyes. He knew how stubborn his sister was, and how hard it was for her to apologize, even when she knew she was wrong.

"It's alright," he said.

She nodded sharply, eyes shying away. "Good night...Killian," she said, then turned and fled up the gangplank. Killian watched her until she had disappeared back into the captain's quarters. 

-

Killian tucked Ian into bed and kissed his forehead. As he slipped from the room and down the hallway towards his and Emma's bedroom, he remembered Anne's words, and a grin spread across his face.

_You're a wonderful father._

Her words echoed through his mind as he changed for bed, crawled beneath the sheets, and nestled next to Emma. She immediately rolled over and snuggled into his chest. He inhaled the scent of her hair, felt their hearts beating in synch, and relaxed.

"Thank you, Emma," he murmured.

"You're welcome," she said. "You know I still have to arrest her tomorrow though, right?"

His grin only grew wider.

His stubborn Swan, how he _adored_ her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry about the wait for this chapter, I'm trying my very best to find time over easter to get through chapter 6/7 but things are very busy atm. I'll update sooner next time I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow an update? le gasp! sorry i took so long to update, a long of things have gone on personally and I'm really struggling to deal with them, I'm off for the summer so hopefully the next few chapters will come a lot quicker.

Anne awoke to hot, blazing sunlight, streaming in through the windows of her cabin directly onto her face. With a curse she sat up and pressed her palms over her eyes. The same nightmare she'd been having for weeks had plagued her again that night--must she be devoid of all pleasure, even in sleep?

 

She opened her left hand, eyebrows furrowing at the crumbling bandage just barely keeping her secret still a secret. Suddenly, anger flooded her. What had she done? Had she doomed Ian and Jackie--her sweet niece and nephew, her own blood? Would her arrogance be their demise?

_I shall die before that happens--before he lays a single finger upon either of them..._  
  
She needed to leave--she needed to lead him away from here, away from Storybrooke, to somewhere she could face him with no risk of collateral damage.

Meanwhile, the item would be safe with Ian. And if she never returned, well, he could keep it. His mother would likely discover it and its properties before long, and at least then it would be in safer hands--even if those hands weren't Anne's.

Anne cursed again. Her stores were sorely depleted. If she was to leave, she needed supplies--food, mostly--otherwise she wouldn't get very far. It was a massive inconvenience, and she risked being caught or delayed by her brother or sister-in-law.

She swung her legs over the side of her bunk, rooted around on the floor for her boots and then yanked them on. She threw herself to her feet and across the cabin to the mirror, where she braided her hair back, keeping the unruly red locks from falling into her face.

Her anger surrounded her like a cloud as she stormed down the gangplank and then up the docks. She tried to keep it in check, until-

"Hey! Watch it, sister!"

"I beg your pardon?" Anne said as she turned, glaring at the person who _dared_ speak to her in such a manner.

She recognized the man scowling at her=a short man with a sour expression and a bristly black-and-gray beard. He'd been one of the patron's at her brother's bar.

"I said watch where you're going, _pirate_ ," the man spat.

Anne grinned. The perfect outlet for her anger had just stumbled into her lap, and the fool didn't even realize it yet.

\---

Emma had barely finished feeding Jackie when her phone began buzzing.

"Duty calls already, huh?" she sighed softly down at the deeply contented baby lying across her chest. Jackie didn't even fuss as she maneuvered her arm free in order to grab her phone =she just stared at Emma with half-lidded eyes and a slight pout.

"I'll be right there, dad," she said without preamble as she raised the phone to her ear. "I just have to-"   


"It's Killian's sister," he said.

"Yea, I know. She escaped last night, but-"

"Well, she's back. In the 'brig', as she likes to call it."

"She's back?" Emma asked in confusion.   


"She got into a fight with Leroy down at the docks this morning," David said.

"Oh."

_Killian's not gonna be happy._

"Yea, just...get down here as fast as you can, okay?"

 

Emma could hear the exasperation in his voice, and the exertion--as if he was personally involved in breaking up the fight, or at least in charge of personally dragging Anne bodily from the docks all the way to the station.

"On my way," she said, and hung up. She closed her eyes, and rested her head back against the rocking chair.  


_I guess this saves me the trouble of having to go and arrest her myself._

Something brushed her face softly, and Emma opened her eyes and looked down to see a pair of green ones that matched her own staring back. Jackie smiled a big, gummy smile, and touched her face again. Emma smiled back--it was impossible not to--and stroked her fingers through her baby's hair. It was as blonde as Ian's had been as a baby, only it was fine and straight, not thick and wavy, and _God_ Emma adored her.

"Your auntie is causing us so much trouble, isn't she?" she asked Jackie in a sweet voice. Jackie giggled, her nose crinkling in a smile, and Emma leaned down to nuzzle her own nose into Jackie's cheek, making her giggle louder, those bubbly little baby giggles Emma couldn't get enough of.

"Alright, cutie," she said regretfully. "Momma's gotta go to work. Let's go say good morning to daddy and Ian."

They walked downstairs to find Killian pouring orange juice at the counter and Ian about to fall asleep in his cereal bowl at the table. 

"There are my princesses," Killian cooed, and walked over to take Jackie from Emma's arms.

Emma passed the baby over, and waited until Killian's morning ritual of blowing raspberries against his daughter's cheeks to make her squeal in delight was over, before she said, "Do you mind having breakfast without me? I have to go into the station a little early," she said.

"Is everything alright?"  


"Sorta," Emma said, to which Killian raised an eyebrow. "Your sister met Leroy. And it didn't end well."

Killian raised his eyes to the ceiling in what was clearly a silent prayer for patience before responding.

"I take it she's in the brig again?" he asked, and Emma nodded. He sighed. "It's not the first time her fists and her loose mouth have landed her in trouble. And it likely won't be the last."  


Emma nodded, and swept a stray lock of hair off Ian's forehead. "Not a morning person, is he?"  


"Like someone else I know," Killian replied with a half-smile.

Emma slipped an arm around his waist and fitted herself to his side. "I'll be home as soon as I can," she promised softly, then turned to Jackie. "Watch your dad and your brother for me?"

Killian chuckled. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"Nope. Be good," she said, and cupped his face to give him a quick kiss on the lips before heading for the door.

"Emma," Killian called. "You'll need these."  


He passed her a brown paper bag, a granola bar, and a banana--her breakfast and her lunch.

Emma's heart swelled. "Thanks," she said, taking the bag and her breakfast from him, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Swan. Call me if you need anything."

  
\---   
  
Killian watched from the door as Emma jogged down their front walkway to her car. She stopped and waved and waited for Jackie to wave back before she got in. Killian turned back into the kitchen and went to the table, bouncing Jackie slightly in his arms.

"What are we going to do about your aunt, hm?" he wondered aloud. It was a question he'd been asking himself near constantly ever since she arrived in town a mere 24 hours ago.

Jackie merely hummed in response, her big green eyes--Emma's eyes--watching him calmly. Killian reached down and ran his fingers through Ian's hair, trying to smooth over the spots that were sticking up.

Ian yawned. "Are we gonna see aunt Anne today?" he asked--apparently he'd been too out of it to have overheard Killian and Emma's conversation.

"Perhaps," Killian said. He had a feeling Anne wouldn't stay confined to a cell for long. "Did she like her present?"

"Uh-huh! She hung it up in her cabin. She gave me a present too! Wanna see?"

"Of course, lad," Killian said.

Suddenly full of energy, Ian jumped out of his chair and raced up the stairs to his room. Killian hoisted Jackie off his hip and into her high chair. He pulled the container of those puffy cereal snacks she liked from the cabinet, and spilled a handful onto her tray.

"Still hungry, lass?" he asked. She grinned at him and immediately began gobbling them up.

Ian's thundering footsteps on the stairs announced his return. He skidded up to Killian's chair and shoved a spyglass under his nose.

"See?" Ian said.

Killian took the spyglass carefully and turned it over in his hands, examining it. It was a beautiful dark green with brass fittings, and the initials AB etched along the side near the lens.

"She gave this to you?" he asked.

"Yea! We used it to look at the stars because she doesn't have a telescope."

"This is a very special gift, lad," he said slowly.

"She said if I want to be a sailor then I need one because every sailor needs one!"

"Aye, she's right."

_And that's the problem_.

A spyglass was an important tool, and it was common for a sailor to become sentimentally attached to theirs. Anne wouldn't have given this away lightly, and not unless she had another on hand.

Something nagged at him. They still didn't know the reason Anne had come to this realm in the first place, or who she was running from.

"Did you tell her the story about the Pegasus and the little girl?"

Ian's question made him jolt.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Because when she told me about it, she looked really sad."

  
_Oh Annie._

 

Killian swallowed the lump forming in his throat and handed the spyglass back to Ian. "Aye, I did," he said. "I told her that story when she was about your age. She was rather fond of horses when she was a little girl."

He could picture her clearly in his mind as a young girl, grinning at him, blue-hazel eyes dancing with mirth, her red hair a wild, tangled halo around her head. But then that image evaporated, and right in front of him were his own two children--children he'd lay his life down for to keep safe.

Killian couldn't sit idly by and allow whatever threatened his sister to threaten Emma and their children, as well. He was going to put an end to this. He and Emma were a team, and while Emma worked on cracking the mystery that was his sister in person, Killian would do some sleuthing of his own.

"How about we go visit uncle Robin today," Killian said. "Would you like that?"

"I thought they were already coming over," Ian said.

"Aye, they're coming over for dinner. But perhaps you'd like to visit them earlier?"

"Ok! I can show Rowan my new spyglass!"

"Alright, lad, finish your breakfast and we'll go over."

\---

Emma entered the station with two steaming cups of fresh coffee from Granny's in hand. Anne greeted her from her cell with a smirk and a cheery, "Morning, blondie," which Emma ignored.

David was in the office, sitting on the edge of his desk with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes fixed balefully on their prisoner.

"How's Leroy?" she asked, and raised an eyebrow in Anne's direction, taking in the bruise over her eye, and the split lip caked with dried blood. Anne grinned back at her unapologetically, like a child caught doing an innocent bit of mischief.

"He gave as good as he got, so he looks about the same as her," he answered, accepting the coffee she offered him. "I don't think she was expecting much of a fight from him. He surprised her."

Emma snorted, and took a sip of her coffee. David mimicked the gesture, and as raised the cup to his lips, Emma noticed him wince slightly and roll his shoulder.

"What happened?" Emma asked.

He shook his head. "Just pulled a muscle, I think," he said, but the pained expression on his face told Emma it was likely worse than a pulled muscle=a torn one, maybe.

"Here, let me fix it," she said. "It's the least I can do."

He didn't protest as she put her hand on his shoulder, and started to heal it.

"It's not--she's not your responsibility, Emma," David said, turning his head slightly to watch the white light pouring from her hands into his shoulder. "And she's not Killian's, either. She's an adult, and neither of you have to apologize for her actions."

"Yea, I know. It's just--Killian _does_ feel responsible. And I don't want him to think any of us are mad at him because of her."

"We're not," David said, softly, catching her eye. " _I'm_ not."

Emma smiled gratefully. "Thanks, dad. How does your arm feel?"  


"Much better. Thanks, Emma."

"That magic of yours is pretty handy, isn't it?" Anne's voice cut in. She was standing at the bars, leaning against them casually as if her current predicament was no bother to her at all.

Emma sighed. "I'm gonna go deal with that. You take a break."

"With pleasure," David muttered.  


Emma went to stand before Anne's cell, her arms crossed over her chest. "We were too easy on you yesterday," she said.

"Aye, well, your father seemed to come to the same conclusion," she said, and jerked her chin to the right. Emma turned and saw Anne's jacket, boots, and her belt with everything still attached to it laid out upon one of the desks.

"Anything we missed?" Emma asked, and she began sifting through Anne's possessions.

"As if I'd answer that," Anne said with a grin.

Emma found a hidden pocket inside the navy coat. Her fingers brushed paper, and she pulled out a thin, worn piece of parchment neatly folded over.

"That's private!" Anne growled.

"Yea, well, you knocked my favorite deputy unconscious last night, so I'm not taking any chances."  


She opened the crinkled paper--thin and faded from age yet clearly still well-cared for--and found  a simple pencil sketch of a woman staring back at her. Emma looked at it for a long moment, admiring the fine details of the woman's face and the long curls framing her head and shoulders. There was something _familiar_ about her smile that Emma couldn't place right away--and then she saw the ears.

"Is that-" she asked.  


"It's my mother, aye--now give it back!"

Emma blinked down at the picture of her mother-in-law; her children's grandmother.  


_Saoirse Jones._

 

\---

 

Killian dropped Ian and Jackie off at Robin and Regina's--profusely thanking the man for his understanding and his generosity--then drove to the docks. He slipped aboard the Pegasus and made his way to the Captain's Quarters. He moved stealthily, even though he knew his sister was safely tucked inside a cell and wouldn't be returning anytime soon. It just didn't _feel_ right, invading his sister's ship like this--but he needed answers.

Anne's cabin was lit by three large windows at the back that flooded the small space with light. It was cozy, Killian decided. The bunk was overflowing with thick, silky pillows--so many, in fact, that a few had spilled to the floor. There was a bookshelf in the corner crammed with books, and a desk cluttered with maps and charts.

On the wall, lovingly placed over the bed, was the portrait Ian had drawn. Killian grinned at it. The sunlight was catching the glitter and making it sparkle--he wondered if his sister had seen it in its full glory, yet.

His eyes travelled onwards, and immediately found a tattered stuffed animal; a cotton fish with faded colors, a missing eye, and its fins held on by the barest thread. He almost laughed in shock.

"After all these years," he mused quietly to himself, shaking his head. He'd gotten it for her--he'd stolen it, of course, being unable to afford it the honest way as a 12-year-old slave. He remembered seeing it hanging there amongst its fellows atop the toy seller's cart; he remembered grabbing it and running like hell, knowing he was risking worse than just a beating if he was caught; he remembered his sister's huge, ecstatic smile, and the way she hugged him like he was her hero.

He closed his eyes, letting the image of the little girl with dirt on her cheeks and her two front teeth missing wash over him. It hurt, knowing that little girl was now the woman who hated him so much--and it hurt worse knowing it was his fault.

He took a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair, rotating slowly on the spot, searching the cabin for anything unusual, anything out of place-

_There._

Sitting in a corner, almost hidden from sight, was a large, bulging leather satchel.

"Bingo," Killian said, because it's something Emma would say, were she in his place.

He lifted the satchel--surprised at its weight--carries it to the table, and dumps its contents. A spyglass, a journal, and a pistol fell out amongst a cascade of gold coins and jewels.

"Oh, Annie," he sighed. "What have you been up to?"

He pushed the gold and the jewels aside, and lifted the spyglass. It was pitch black with gold fittings. It felt heavy in comparison to the one Anne had given Ian. He turned it in his hand, rolling it to examine the other side, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

_BB_ was etched in gold.

_Blackbeard_.

His sister had stolen from _Blackbeard_.

\---

 

Emma couldn't drag her eyes away from the piece of parchment she held. "So that's where you get your ears from," she said quietly.

"Aye," Anne said.

"She was very beautiful."

"That she was."

Anne's tone brought Emma back to her senses.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't know. Here."

She handed Anne the paper through the bars, and Anne took it back gently.

"What was she like?" Emma asked.

"I couldn't tell you," Anne said. "She died giving birth to me."

_Meaning Liam and Killian were all you ever had._

Sorrow lined Anne's features, and Emma felt a stab of sadness in her own gut.

"Oh," she said. She might not know loss the way Anne did--Liam, and then Killian, in a way--but she knew what it was like to grow up without your mother, and she wanted Anne to know she wasn't alone.

"Hey," she asked. "Are you hungry?"

It was a tactic that had worked often on her as a girl; sometimes she'd enter a new foster home, and someone there--someone as lonely as she was--would want to make friends, so they'd offer her food, usually some treat they'd squirreled away and kept hidden, waiting for that special moment.

Anne was looking at her half in confusion, half in suspicion.

"I haven't eaten breakfast yet," Emma explained, and then took on a teasing tone. "Someone had to go and get themselves arrested and interrupt my quiet morning at home."

"Yes, well, the dwarf was asking for it," Anne said, smirking back playfully.

"I don't doubt it," Emma said. She retrieved her lunch bag from the office--shrugging in response to David's raised eyebrow--and carried it back to Anne's cell. "Alright, I've got a banana, a granola bar, and a PB&J sandwich. Take your pick."

Anne narrowed her eyes at Emma's offerings. "What's a PB&J sandwich?" she asked cautiously.

"Peanut butter and jelly," Emma said, already pulling the sandwich from its plastic baggy and splitting it in two. "It's pretty much a delicacy around here. If you haven't ever had one before then you need to try it. Here."

Anne took the sandwich Emma passed her through the bars and took an experimental nibble.

"Not bad," Anne said.

"Told ya," Emma replied. She sat at the desk nearest the cells, put her feet up, and dug into her own half of the sandwich. It was _delicious_ \--Killian always loaded it with peanut butter, just the way she liked it.

"So," Emma said, around a mouthful of peanut butter, "Do you have any dinner plans?"

"That all depends on how long you plan on keeping me locked up."

Emma struggled to keep a look of triumph off her face; Anne had just given her exactly the opening she needed. "How about," Emma said slowly. "I make you a deal?"

Anne eyed her for a long moment before she said, "I'm listening."

"I'll let you out if you have dinner with us."

"Dinner? With you and Killian?"

"Yea," Emma said. "We're having a cookout in the backyard today for Memorial Day. My parents and my little brother will be there too, and our friends Regina and Robin and their kids. It'll be nice."

"There's no need for pretense, blondie. if you want to spend more time with my gorgeous face, you could of just said so," Anne said with a smirk.

_Ah, there it is: the Jones swagger._

 

“So? Will you come?"

Anne's smirk faded and she grew serious. "Are you certain I'd be welcome?"

Emma shrugged. "Sure. Everyone's pretty friendly--as long as you don't try to pick a fight with them, that is-"

"No I meant...with Killian?"

"Of course," Emma said softly.

Anne looked down at her hands.

"C'mon," Emma prompted. "Ian will be thrilled. And you can meet Jackie."

"Well, if it'll make the little lad happy, then how can I say no?" Anne said quietly.

Emma smiled to herself.

_If only you knew how often Killian says the same thing._

"Hey, are you still hungry? I've got a banana you can have."

"Yes, please," Anne said.

Emma carried the banana to Anne's cell. "You've had one of these before, right? I don't have to peel it for you?"

Her words had the desired effect: Anne's grin was back.

"I think I can handle it, blondie."

Emma was handing Anne the banana when she noticed the grubby bandage wrapped around Anne's palm. Her mom instincts kicked in, and before she could think better of it, she took hold of Anne's wrist.

"You're hurt," she said.

Anne went rigid in her grasp immediately.

"It's fine, lass," she said stiffly. "I've had worse, trust me."

Anne tried to gently pull her hand away, but Emma held on. Something was wrong --whatever was beneath the bandage, Emma could _feel_ it; it was throbbing, just out of sight, and the more she paid attention to it, the more the strange feeling pulled her in, like a sinkhole.

"I can heal it," she heard herself stay distantly.

"I said its _nothing,_ " Anne said sharply, and as she wrenched her arm away, Emma's thumb slid up her wrist and underneath the bandage. She touched whatever was there, and she felt a jolt like a lightning bolt through her.

An image of a face flashed through her mind; a face she'd never seen in person, but one she'd seen often in Henry's story book.

_Blackbeard_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my first fanfic so please comment on what I can do to improve on the chapters and share it folks!
> 
> This is part of the I belong to you, you belong to me universe created by phthalo 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/547459 
> 
> Please read her fic before mine and show her some love, seriously this wouldn't even exist without her and she's a major inspiration to me and my writing, Seriously she's just amazing.


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